Possession
by Blood.Stained.Fingers
Summary: Harry knew love was a powerful emotion...but he had never imagined Hermione would sacrifice him for Ron. As a horcrux Harry is little more than a possession to Voldemort...He didn't expect to be able to manipulate the new position he was in...Dark!fic
1. Chapter 1

**A/N – Right, this is slightly AU, it's pretty much the same as canon – however Albus isn't dead and Harry and Co know that he is a horcrux. The other horcruxes are known about but they do not know what they are or where. It would veer off the original path during the sixth year, and it is set during Harry's seventh, in the late spring of the year. **

**Un-betafied I'm afraid – so sorry if there are any mistakes.**

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Possession**

Harry had always known love was a great emotion, exceeding powerful and capable of making people able to perform great scarifies. He just never expected Hermione to sacrifice him for Ron...

If anything Hermione was the last person he ever thought would do anything like that, she was always the reliable one. Harry would have trusted her with anything and ...then this happened and Harry realised that he had under estimated Dumbledore's statement that love was the most powerful emotion...the most powerful magic...He had never thought that Hermione would do that for Ron. He knew they were going out, but he didn't believe that she would hand over the light's most valuable secret in order to stop Ron being tortured – only for a period of time too. Harry didn't want it to happen to Ron of course, but it was one of those things that they knew that might happen when joining a cause for the war. It seemed to be the mutual understanding from either side that if you were captured you were forfeit all your human rights...torture was inevitable.

He had always just believed that it would be Ron who would crack under torture – not Hermione who cracked watching said torture.

He wasn't entirely sure how it had happened in fact, the three of them had been on their way to Hogsmeade for the day, when something had hit the back of his head...a portkey that was also a rock that had given him a nice cut on his scalp. Unfortunately, Ron had just slung his arm around Harry's shoulders and his other arm had been around Hermione's waist so all three were dragged along for the ride. Portkeys were not Harry's favourite method of travel, apparition though uncomfortable and most risky was something that Harry had got used to but portkeys...Harry had never liked them and never would. All three of them landed with a loud thump on dirty dry land, that when touched dust stayed on Harry's fingertips. Harry suddenly knew _exactly_ who they were with within seconds as his scar burst viciously with pain, a violent explosion of burning agony that made his vision blur and spin making the scenery become one slurry of colours.

"Whaa...?" Ron began in a slight slur from being disorientated when a high cold _familiar_ voice interrupted him. It was almost humorous Harry decided, that in a moment like this _all_ common sense flees from your person. Instead of jumping up and using their wands, all they did was sit there and gape. Harry didn't think he could get up even if he wanted to, but Ron and Hermione - what were they doing?

"Ahh, it seems we have more guests than we planned for." Then there was a horrid hissing laugh, echoed by loud deep laughter of death eaters trying to impress the Dark Lord by laughing the loudest. It was disjointed and sounded all wrong to Harry's ears.

"Ah, Harry, I must admit we were only expecting you, but to bring more friends to play with? How generous..." He purred happily, gesturing to a couple of death eaters and pointing to the pale Ron. "Let us start then with Weasley...it is only fair to include you _all_ in this...party...You know the rules of course, any information you want to volunteer is much appreciated."

Hermione let out a scream when all of their hands were bound together with thin tough rope that would splice their skin and tried to grab at Ron's robes as he was pulled up by a burly masked death eater and dragged to the centre of the circle formed around the Dark Lord.

Harry saw Ron being dragged away but couldn't move properly, even as their wands were removed from them. All he could think on was the pain in his scar...it had never been this bad before, this time it was literally crippling him...he felt increasing light headed and sick with it. He slumped to lean on his hands, his pride not letting him curl on the floor and shut his eyes like he needed too. He distantly heard Hermione begging and screaming, but it wasn't near, it was like she was in the distance and...all he could hear was the rhythm of the pain in his scar, it thrummed and danced with the beat of his heart.

It was when the first curse cast on Ron that made it worse, and he screamed at the pain that increased when the Dark Lord used his magic, whilst Ron screamed at the curse he was subjected too.

When the first curse was stopped, Harry let out a shocked cry of relief as he wiped his forehead collecting the blood on his bared wrists and letting it soak into the hem of his shirt. He frowned in worry at the blood that continued to force its way through the tiny wound. Bellatrix at some point landed heavily next to him and made sure he watched whilst revelling in Hermione's sobs laughing at her tears.

Ron let out a high pitched scream where his flesh was starting to turn inside on his exposed left foot, the blood spurting out of the blood vessels and bones emerging like icebergs from the rapidly opening flesh. Harry's head was held in Bellatrix's grip, his two ears being pinched firmly as she watched the torture draped over him. Eventually the bones in Ron's foot fell away from each other as the tendons and ligaments were removed. Harry shut his eyes to the scene, throat raw from his screaming and his vision swimming with tears of distress and pain. However, none of them had breathed a word yet despite the desire to stop Ron's pain. He heard Bellatrix's laughter at Hermione's pleads for them to stop and suddenly her hands were removed from his burning ears from the restricted blood flow to the tips. Harry's glasses were pulled down his nose by a bony finger and then his eyelids were pried opened by Bellatrix. "You must watch, ickle Harry..." She purred at him with a vivacious pout as she let go of his lids. He shook his head trying to blink some of the moisture back onto his eyeballs. Bellatrix laughed wickedly and got up and skipped towards her Lord, kneeling by his feet and hissing something excitedly to him while wrapping her hands in his robes.

He laughed at what she had said and nodded, one hand threading through her hair and smiling at her as he encouraged her to her feet. He indulged her too much, Harry thought...He suddenly back tracked wondering where the odd thought had come from.

Ron suddenly let out a breathless cry as Bellatrix ran a knife lightly around his eyes, no breaking the skin but leaving a red swollen line where it trailed. "Such _pretty_ blue eyes...I love blue eyes..." She whispered softly, and the death eaters that heard started to laugh with lewd undertones.

Unfortunately this is when it happened, where Hermione decided she couldn't take anymore, her nose running and nails filled with mud from where she ground her hands into the dirt beneath.

"HARRY'S YOUR HORCRUX!" Hermione shrieked loudly, tears dripping off her red swollen face. A strangled moan followed her destroying statement as she bent over sobbing loudly, a large strong of frothy saliva hanging from her open lips. A strange keening sound emerged from her as her tears dripped into the dirt.

Harry made a slight choking sound, low in his gullet and just gaped at the sobbing girl. He couldn't seem to even form any type of response or bluff to what she said; he watched her disbelief written across his face. He figured he was lucky that he was already on his knees as he could feel his body starting to tremble in fear and knew that he would not be able to support himself, he could feel his body sagging and slipping to his left already. His breath seemed too loud, and the beat of his heart matched in tempo with the pulsing pain in his scar seemed to echo. It seemed so far away – Harry thought he must have been going into shock.

Harry had never really been too afraid of Voldemort, that changed when he heard he was a horcrux however. That would mean Voldemort wouldn't kill him – no true Gryffindor feared death after all – but the man might keep him – forever locked away like the accursed cup in a vault. He had escaped the Durselys and their dark, dusty cupboard and to be placed in another... so soon after being freed from his last one...no, Harry couldn't deal with that. Harry could feel his breath becoming loud and shaky...rapid and shallow...oh Merlin, he was panicking...if this wasn't a giveaway what was?

The whole assemble paused, Hermione's desperate cry being heard by all and simultaneously they all turned to her and the gobsmacked Harry whose bound hands were shaking and lips were trembling in an attempt to form words.

Voldemort ended Ron's torture was ended a simple twist of his wand; Bellatrix instantly standing and moving back into the crowd with a sad, mournful expression. Though the screaming had stopped endless whimpering had replaced it. Ron breathed through bloody lips, laying in his own excrement, urine, saliva and snot. His chest rattled unhealthily and blood splattered the ground from each difficult exhale and a sheen of sheet coated his skin, highlighting the sickly pallor of grey he had turned. His freckles stood out starkly on his face, and his eyelids fluttered slightly as he lay in a semi conscious state.

The Dark Lord slowly turned to the two, a shrewd expression upon his snake like face and his Death Eaters parted like the Red Sea to give him a better view of the shell shocked pair. Even Hermione did not seem to be able to digest that she had let out such a _valuable_ secret as she continued to cry and moan raggedly while she wiped her face roughly her small eyes swollen and dartingly around worriedly in her puce face between Harry and the Dark Lord.

"What did you just say?" He whispered softly as he strode forward, his eyes cold, sharp and dangerous. Hermione scrambled back on her bound hands and knees making a terrified sound as she tried to flee. Harry didn't move, Gryffindor pride not allowing for it and due to being partially paralysed with a combination of fear and shock. His scar was pulsing with pain as the Dark Lord approached him, and he could feel a trickle of blood escape the raw cut again.

He bypassed Harry however and headed towards Hermione who was still trying to shuffle away, though trapped in a circle of black cloak clad death eaters. "Mudblood?" He asked again, in that dangerous smooth voice. "What did you just say?" He repeated, as he lifted his wand in those long bony fingers and pointed it towards her form in a threatening manner. Hermione found herself whispering it again, although she might has well shouted it. "Harry's your... hor...crux..." It sounded so broken and scared, such the evidence of her emotional distress.

He scrutinised her for several moments deliberating on whether what she said was what she actually believed, there was no sound for a few moments as everyone barely breathed.

Voldemort turned to Harry, his hairless brow furrowing before saying coldly to his servants "Leave us!" The Death Eaters shuffled uneasily and confusedly, before the Dark Lord grew irritated and shouted "NOW!" accompanied with the feeling of angry, ambient magic in the air compressing them. Instantly the Death Eaters scattered, apparating from the woods and taking Ron and Hermione with them. Hermione was screaming at Ron and him in nonsensical sentences as she was pulled away, whilst Ron merely flopped in his captor's hold as he was roughly jostled about so they could apparate.

Harry gulped nervously, the sweat beading upon his upper lip as he watched the Dark Lord observe him like an interesting specimen. The area, now empty of death eaters, was no lighter and in fact felt more claustrophobic with only the two of them. Harry let his breath out his whole form slumping slightly. He could hear his own shaky exhale, and tried to swallow his fear as he looked up and met that crimson gaze. Voldemort walked forward to the kneeling bound figure his figure slung forward in a predatory hunch until he reached a stop in front of the boy. He tucked his wand into one of his billowing robe sleeves, before smiling slowly at Harry.

Harry swallowed the vomit that hit the back of his throat audibly, his eyes watering from the pain and the bitter taste. Voldemort chuckled quietly as he too heard the violent retch.

Voldemort suddenly knelt down in front of Harry, his motion from standing to kneeling seamless and smooth. His hands cupped Harry's face and he tilted the boy's head at different angles as though trying to see what Harry was. He ran his finger over the scar, ignoring the crimson streak of blood that clung to the tip of his finger when he did so. Harry started to speak but Voldemort pushed his index finger against Harry's throat causing the words to catch in his compressed windpipe.

"I did not say you could speak, Potter!" He hissed, suddenly moving forward sharply, causing Harry to attempt to move back, however he was halted by the tightly cupped hands. Voldemort's face was much too close as he looked at the scar, a small smile curved the thin mouth that lacked lips and the man leaned further in and he licked the blood from the scar. The pain which constantly thrummed behind the thin cut suddenly spiked once again, a ragged cry escaped Harry's crushed throat and his whole torso arched forward whilst his head reared backwards shaky whimpers bursting forth as he partially collapsed in his captor's hold. His whole body trembled as his nerve endings sparked with pain with every rapid beat of his heart. A grating cry of pain pushed its way through his clenched teeth. He heard an intrigued hum in the air as Voldemort pursed his lips in consideration.

"Are you?" Voldemort asked himself curiously "I do wonder..." He trailed off, his red eyes unfocussed staring at the dark green foliage. "_Nagini_" He called, over his shoulder as those eyes slid back to Harry's form that rested in his cupped hands. Harry started to struggle weakly in his captor's grasp until Voldemort hissed at him angrily and he instantly stilled as his scar spiked warningly.

The leaves rustled as the giant body of the snake slithered across the large clearing towards the pair, her large yellow eyes regarding them curiously. "_Master?_" She asked as she reached him and began to curl around his midriff affectionately. She ran her head along his robed back and rested herself on his shoulders, her glittering eyes turning to Harry, whose eyes were starting to roll backwards, the green irises flashing occasionally as his eyes attempted to focus on anything before his chest would buckle forwards and the whites would show once again.

"_What does Potter smell like to you?_" Voldemort asked, his eyes on Harry as the boy gasped and tried to wriggle free from the Dark Lord's hands, his own hooked over the pale long ones of Voldemort's and his fingers twitched weakly as he tried to pry the fingers away from him. "Potter! Stop that!" He hissed angrily, his nails digging into the delicate flesh near the boy's eyes. Harry let go, his hands weakly slipping off Voldemort's "_How can the supposed saviour of the wizarding world be so weakened by me? How are you anything near my equal when I disable you just by being near?" _He asked softly to the unresponsive boy. Nagini slid of Voldemort's shoulders and moved over to Harry, her tongue flickering out to taste the boy, raising herself up to taste the red, engorged scar that was weeping blood.

Voldemort had first figured out that Nagini could sense -in a manner- other horcruxes when she paid particular attention to his ring, and in fact liked to keep near it. Trying it with the others showed that she wanted to be near them and when asked she said '_they smell like family_'. It was a stroke of luck regarding the identification of this new possible horcux.

"_He smells...like brother..._" She finally decided and wrapped herself around the limp boy and tightening around Harry, nuzzling at his neck and resting herself across Harry's rapidly moving ribcage. "_...and scared..._" She added after a moment, her tongue flickering out to the small cut that Voldemort's nail had left on Harry's throat.

Voldemort smiled suddenly, his tight bruising grip loosening to an almost gentle caress to the boy's features. He used one hand to tug Harry's hair back to look at his mark on the boy's forehead. "_My_ horcrux..." He whispered possessively, as he stroked back the boy's hair. The boy was still gasping weakly, his nerve endings causing his whole frame to twitch. "_Do you like your brother, Nagini?_" He asked after a moment watching the barely conscious horcrux.

"_I don't know him, Master, but I do think I will..._" She gave the body underneath her a firm squeeze.

Voldemort put one arm under the boy's shoulder blades and the other under his knees, between Nagini's coils and lifted the both of them easily off the dirty ground.

He made sure that his hold on the boy was secure before apparating back to his home, landing softly in his own quarters and putting the boy down on the floor.

He acknowledged that the boy would have to be rehabilitated as his current attitude was nothing short of infuriating, he would need to see Voldemort and only Voldemort. The boy needed to be endeared to him...to crave Voldemort's approval. He was mouldable, he wasn't too old yet...it was most definitely possible.

At worst if the boy couldn't be tamed he needed to be kept hidden away...safe. He would have to keep the boy near or even in his quarters, he decided, after all he couldn't leave his horcrux where it could be damaged and his Death Eaters wouldn't be able to resist if they saw Harry in a cell.

He used his wand to connect the bindings around the boy's wrists to the thick bed leg, as a temporary way of keeping him still and ...out of trouble.

The boy glared at him from his fallen position on the cold floor. Nagini was attempting to sooth Harry with soft reassuring words. "_Hush brother, calm down...Master won't harm you...Brother..._" Harry opened his mouth in order to vocalise just how he felt about the 'Master' when Nagini decided to wrap and tighten around his throat. He choked slightly, instinctively trying to move his hands to grab the snake that was restricting his breathing.

Voldemort chuckled, and said softly "_You should listen to your sister, Harry._" He smiled mockingly and continued, "_You will be staying here for a few hours until I have set up appropriate accommodation for you. Perhaps a nice little cupboard?_" He walked towards the doors, intending to leave the pair together whilst he dealt with their unexpected prisoners.

"_You won't separate us, will you Master?_" Nagini called out, worriedly as she curled around Harry more tightly ignoring Harry's struggles against her crushing weight.

"_No, of course not, my darling._" He crooned softly at her, though continued concernedly. "_You are suffocating him..._"

Nagini loosened and apologised to Harry profusely, but the boy's eyes were fixed on him in anger but predominately in fear. Voldemort smiled, fear...yes he could most definitely work with that...

He supposed he would have to thank the mudblood... or maybe, he thought twistedly, he should punish her as by betraying his horcrux... by extension was betraying him...Bellatrix did hate mudbloods and traitors.

Voldemort laughed mockingly, spinning around with sardonic flair and leaving his quarters with a last, "_Look after your brother, Nagini._"

**A/N – Please tell me what you think of this, is it worth continuing? This might become slash, but it does depend on how the story and characters develop...  
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**I'm not overly obsessed with the idea, so feedback will help me decide whether I continue with it. :S**

**Drop a review and let me know please. :~)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A/N - **Un-betafied I'm afraid – so sorry if there are any mistakes.

Oh wow! I'm just so shocked and pleased at the response this fic got – just wow! Thank you – everyone who dropped a review, alerted or added it to their favourites. Cheers guys! :)

**Possession**

The door closed behind Voldemort almost silently, only the soft click of the latch sounded as door sealed out any light from the outside world. Harry stared after him gaping blankly at where the man had been mere moments before suddenly letting out an angry yell after him. He glared at the air in front of him and his mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. He turned his eyes back to his bound hands and tugged futilely at them. He felt his limbs trembling in his remnant pain and fear, but now the shock had started to seep out of him and anger started to flair. He was no longer in the presence of the Dark Lord and with the lack of pain Harry felt his faculties returning. He couldn't believe Hermione had actually done that, and for what? What good had it done her? She was now in a cell and they would use Ron again when they wanted information...stupid, stupid bitch!

He looked at the ropes and tried to analyse them, he knew they were coarse, thin and tough – easily able to cut and tear flesh. They were designed to discourage and be able to follow through with that unspoken condition, however Harry was a Gryffindor who now felt reasonably well – he was not going to just accept his place here bound by the feet of Voldemort's bed!

He tugged on them irritably ignoring the sting that followed it, he scowled at them and pulled again hating the situation more and more by the second therefore began to lose his temper, which although brilliant for displays of powerful magic were not constructive for escaping the Dark Lord's fortress.

His arms trembled with the remnants of pain and his muscles ached, his face was also covered in sheen of sweat – all he wanted to do is rest but he kept tugging - even though it was useless he needed to bloody try.

Despite being of age in the Wizarding World, Harry was painfully aware of the fact that he was only a child! A child against a man many, many years older than he was! Wizards lived for hundreds of years in the best circumstances, and the average age to die at was around a hundred and thirty, how could a seventeen year old be considered an adult? He felt it very unfair that they should be children for such a short time and then an adult so young too. However, Harry thought, when had he ever been young? He had been an old soul in a young body trapped under the stairs with only darkness and too large clothes for company. When he was in that cupboard life had been so simple, so animalistic, _this is where you slept, collect your gatherings, this is where you are safe_. He would go out and work for his food and then be back in his cupboard, so sad that that was the only thing he knew for a few years before being carted off to the local school. It had been different, so suddenly aware of the outside world beyond the house and small garden of the Dursely's ...Harry had then resented the cupboard, where before it had been a hidey hole for a young child to escape his Uncle's harsh voice, his cousins mean fists and the bursts of green he swear he could see, it was now small cramped and claustrophobic, he _hated_ it. He begun to fear it...the removal of his senses the only things available to him were the sounds of his small exhales, the smell of dust that clung to the walls, the rough texture of the hardwood that was the floor and the chill that settled into his very bones from sleeping on a thin mattress – even these were nothing now he had become so used to them, they were so natural and expected that they became tasteless to him. It wasn't fair! It wasn't right that after only seven years free of the Dursley's, freedom in Hogwarts, people like him...friends... that he should be taken back into another cage, admittedly, a very posh and nice roomy cage. But four walls none the less, and that was what Harry vowed to never again suffer, he pulled harshly at the ropes in his anger.

He was aware of the hissing at his ear as Nagini tried to catch his attention but he ignored her as best as he was able, instead focussing on the large complicated knot where the hand bindings and the tether to the bed met. Harry's fingers darted to the knot and he tried to pick at it, even though it caused his tight bonds to jostle and scrap at the delicate flesh of his bony wrists.

"_Brother, I wouldn't do that._" Nagini whispered softly, as she loosened herself from Harry's warm body. "_Master won't be pleased..._" She murmured as she slithered over to the large fire calmly, seeming to know that she wouldn't be able to stop him. Harry didn't feel inclined to highlight or question her lack in effort to stop him in case that triggered her to attempt to subdue him.

He felt every slight movement caused a sharp burning in his skin as he pulled at the knots but he ignored it. Suddenly a sickly sweet smell filled the air and Harry sniffed at it, trying to find its source. He finally found it at the ropes knot. The ropes were probably embalmed with something, unfortunately sickly sweet smells often meant poison. Probably a mild healing potion in their too – just to stop an awful lot of damage occurring.

Harry's scar flared with a sudden burst of pain and a giddy, delighted feeling was pushing its way into him, his vision lurched and turned into a different setting. _He was walking into dark dungeons where screams were echoing loudly of the walls._

Harry shook his head and Voldemort's room swam back into view and Nagini's undecipherable hissing came from a long way away as she wrapped around him, trying to support his head with her own. He let out a groan and dry retched, his tongue protruding as he tried to rid himself of the acidic bile in his mouth. The room was going fuzzy again and his head felt like it was shattering.

_He crouched down beside Ron and pulled out a small ritual knife, lowering it to the half peeled foot and began to flay him._

"_Brother?_" Nagini asked worriedly. "_Brother? Focus on me!_"

He could feel the pain trying to pull him under again, but he didn't want to see what he couldn't help. He let out of keen of distress, but focused on Nagini's voice. "_Nagini._" He croaked, and focused on his voice, on the word, on Nagini's reassurances.

_Tendons being spliced and slowly pulled away from the muscles and bones._

He made it ground him and the all encompassing pain dulled to a painful throb at the base of his skull. "_Nagini._" He repeated, his breathing more even and his voice stronger.

_The screams seemed further away and the bright blossoming blood seemed to lose the vitality of its colour._

He spent the next hour of his friends' torture repeating Nagini's name and leaning heavily on her as she tried to comfort him and reassure him.

**~Possession~**

Voldemort returned later in the evening, a splash of blood across his face from one cheek bone to approximately where his eyebrow should have been. Harry didn't want to know where that was from although he could hazard a guess. He eyed Harry amusedly, who as soon as the man had entered had to slump to try and catch the breath pain had forced out of him. He wheezed and glared slightly as his bound hands sat in his lap, the flesh red and luminescent as blood flooded into the saturated ropes.

"Feeling rebellious Harry?" He asked, with a sharp twist of his mouth indicating his humour. He walked closer to the still boy ignoring who the child bared his teeth in a feral manner. He pulled the boy's hands up and examined the raw wounds. "You had better hope that doesn't become infected, I do not care if you have to have them amputated though I think you would." He let them drop from his cool grip and revelled in the hiss of pain the boy made.

_Bastard, he knew they already were due to his bloody ropes._

"You fucking bas-" Harry began but suddenly stopped, choking on his words when he felt the tip of a wand press firmly into the hard vertebrae at the base of his neck.

"Harry," Voldemort murmured in a saccharine voice as he knelt behind his horcrux, his right arm hooking him around his midriff and pulling him close whilst his left remained steady with his wand poised. "I wish you wouldn't use such language. I will have to punish you, but that's alright because," He reached forward and ran his thumb over the beautiful white scars_ I must not tell lies_, and he smiled as the boy resumed his struggling. He leaned closer to the squirming boy putting his lipless mouth next to his ear and whispering in a voice that wasn't his own ", deep down you know you deserve to be punished."

Harry snarled at that his whole form surging forwards away from the evil man but before he could do much else he screamed in agony when the Dark Lord said "_Crucio_"

His whole form began to spasm both trying to curl inwards and bend backwards. He ended up in a constant state of both his arms jerking in the ropes, tearing at the already raw wounds as he form started to teeter, swaying from side to side. Then at last the spell finished.

He lay collapsed in the Dark Lord's arms, his head resting on the man's robed chest. His breathing as ragged unwilling whimpers escaping every time his chest rattled with every exhale and his wrists flared with such agony that he daren't move them. He felt a hand brush his sweaty face, the nails scrapping the skin gently.

"Silly Harry," There was a pause as the hand brushed the hair stuck to his face away. "Do you feel better now? You needed to get that out of your system, didn't you?"

He shut his eyes wearily not bothering to contradict him as he tried to gather himself. He felt his awareness slowly return.

Harry noticed the ropes fell away from the bed, but the ropes embedded in his wounds remained. "I have had the house elves prepare something for you, I'm sure you will like it." Voldemort continued. He set the boy on his feet and grabbed him by the scruff of the Harry's robe. He dragged the boy to a small _cupboard_ door and opened it, tossing the boy in head first.

It was a perfect recreation of his own little cupboard, down to the broken toy soldiers on the little shelf. "YOU BASTARD!" Harry yelled, slamming his shaking, weak hands on the small grate, glaring out and trying to see the man who had put him in there. All he heard though was the distant reprimand "Language, Horcrux."

He didn't say anything in response, but sat back, letting go of the small grate and shifted uncomfortably on his little mattress. Time seemed to change as though it moved at constant different rates. It could have been magic or he was just losing it and he curled up on top of the mattress – his wrists throbbing as he moved them. He sighed and closed his eyes though he had no intention of sleeping.

At times he almost swore he heard Aunt Petunia humming and the occasional grunt from Uncle Vernon, of course he knew that they weren't real but Voldemort probably wanted to encourage regression to a child like state – or maybe he wanted a reaction like Hagrid had got, such relief from the escape of the cupboard that he would instantly be grateful...He wasn't going to get it! He scowled and hunkered down glaring at the blackness of 'his room', he would have to wait it out until Voldemort wanted to 'play again'.

**~Possession~**

It was very late at night when Voldemort took him out of the cupboard, the open curtains showing a pitch black sky filled with twinkling stars.

"Evening Harry" Voldemort smiled, as he shifted some papers into the draw on his desk. "Are you calmer now?" He continued when Harry just glared at him stoically. Voldemort rolled his eyes exasperatedly before picking up a small book that had been sitting innocently on his desk. "I thought you might appreciate some entertainment – after all I suppose it has been a long day for you – although I do hope you have caught up on your sleep." He placed the book on Harry's lap and he eyed the boy in amusement from his position at the desk. The boy was sitting on the floor, the ropes once again tied to the desk leg and he just looked at the book blankly. Voldemort stood up from his desk and went and joined Nagini on a comfy armchair by the warm fire, letting her curl around him contentedly and waited for Harry to speak.

"I'm not reading that! It's a dark book!" Was the final objection after a few minutes and Voldemort could at last laugh at the inevitable.

"Why ever not, Harry?" He asked with mirth. "It hasn't stopped you rummaging around in my mind for knowledge similar to what is in that book."

The book dropped with a light _thunk_ on the floor before Harry turned to the Dark Lord gaping in shock.

"Do you think, Harry, that I didn't know what you were doing?" Voldemort asked sardonically, he slouched slightly in his chair and stretched his legs as Nagini moved off him and closer to the fire. "Do you think I didn't notice your sudden surge in spell knowledge when I saw you on the battlefield?" The man tapped the side of his head. "Exploiting that mental connection, Harry?" He scoffed loudly, ignoring Harry's sneer. He suddenly leant forward, both hands clasping the arms of his chair "Of course I knew!" He hissed coldly. Then his eyes glittered cruelly "Surprisingly Slytherin of you, Potter. Then again, you never have been afraid to do anything stupid or reckless, have you? Taking knowledge from me to achieve your desired ends? Invading my mind? But then I thought, if the _great_" He sneered heavily at the boy, his fingernails carving into the delicately carved wood in his vicious anger "Harry Potter will do it, then I shall too." He said in a mocking tone. Then suddenly his face smoothed into a small cajoling smile. "Why don't you give in, Harry?" Voldemort whispered to him softly. "You're tempted-"

Harry opened his mouth to protest when the Dark Lord hissed angrily "Don't lie to me!" He smiled in what would have been a disarming manner if he had a human face. "You want to, don't you?" He purred. "You could, you know? I wouldn't tell your little friends – I promise."

Harry just wordlessly hissed at him, his body held back but his head moving closer as he spat at the man. Voldemort was right though – and he hated him more for it. He thought that knowing what he was up against by understanding would be the key to being able to defeat Voldemort but in fact with the knowledge came temptation. It burned all the time and fighting dark magic was considered one of the hardest things to resist – Harry was doing well but it was getting worse and Voldemort knew it too.

Voldemort just looked at the wet blob that had missed his feet unimpressed, before he continued with his gloating. "How else did I know about your lovely cupboard? Do you like the recreation by the way?" He shot forwards suddenly and grasped Harry's chin in one of his hands. "_Anything_ in the world for _my_ little _horcrux._" He whispered maliciously watching in rapture at the boy's flickering eyes with a whole maelstrom of emotions.

"How else did I learn about the delightful Dolores Umbridge?" He pressed on "Trust me, Harry. I know _everything_." He let go of Harry's face using the tips of his fingers to smooth out the red nail marks he had left on the boy's pale cheeks. "You are my horcux, _my_ possession. Everything you own is _mine_. Do you understand? Your money, your clothes, your memories, your free will...your life. _Everything._"

Harry looked at the man coldly, anger at the forefront of his mind and so he spat once again right in the face of Dark Lord. The man seemed to startle and he let his grip go, rearing back as he wiped his cheek clean. Harry sat on the floor, his pale cheeks flushing in anger.

"I am nothing to you – I am not YOURS!" He yelled, his chest heaving with the effort to convey the anger and sincerity he felt.

"_Crucio!_" Voldemort hissed angrily, his face creasing in frustration. He held it for a few minutes before releasing it and letting the boy slump on the floor. He slowly pushed himself out of his chair and walked over to the prone boy, his robe making the only slightest of sounds on the rich, thick carpet rug.

He knelt down by Harry and gently cupped the boy's face, turning it towards him and observing the half lidded green eyes that blearily focused on him.

"Listen to me, Horcrux." He whispered as he leaned in close to the sweaty and trembling boy, "_Listen!_" He hissed tapping the boy's face sharply to make him open his eyes and help him focus. "This is your life now. If you behave, you will be fine. Your life will be a pleasant one, but if you _misbehave_," The grip on Harry's cheeks tightened painfully, causing the green eyes to sharpen once again, "If you misbehave then I can make your life hell...Learn this now, Horcrux, and save yourself the pain. If you're a good horcrux then you have nothing to worry about."

Voldemort smiled at the defiance in his horcrux's eyes. _How sweet._ It was brilliant so, so brilliant. He hated the boy, he was a constant pain and constant trouble for him but he was a bit of his soul. That couldn't be wasted – he wouldn't let it die! He was so happy though, now he had the boy here. He could protect his soul and punish the boy. _Soon,_ he thought, _soon the boy will break and then there will be no reason to hate and hurt him. Soon, he will just be...a perfect, submissive and calm horcrux._ He looked at the scowling boy again and thought, _though that might be a long while away._

He knew Harry wasn't going to make any more progress today. So he grabbed the boy and then threw him back into the cupboard, still trembling from the aftermath the painful crucio.

**~Possession~**

He knew it was morning from the steady glow that filtered through the small grate on his door and he wanted out of his cupboard – he needed to see Voldemort and despite his hatred he knew he needed his help.

He looked at his bound wrists and saw, in the small amount of dawn light, the healing scabs now starting to incorporate the ropes too, and the engorged flesh had gone a yellowy green colour showing signs of severe infection. He could no longer feel his fingers, and they had swollen to incredible measures, deep purple starting to bloom in his finger tips.

Voldemort grinned savagely when he saw Harry's hands but gestured for him to sit at the small table that had appeared in the room with breakfast set out on it. He made him eat some breakfast – with his damaged hands, and waited until he was finished before he brought out a folded paper.

Voldemort smiled and gave him the newspaper – a giant picture of a body of skin was hanging of a shop sign in Diagon Alley – skin with scalp of red hair. He gaped in shock and looked back up, away from the paper to the Dark Lord.

"I wouldn't worry, Harry. Your red haired friend is still alive – he ingested a potion which makes the subject re-grow their skin. I'm sure he is feeling a little...rough, but none the less alive."

Harry threw the paper down on the table sharply, knocking over his cup of his tea and making his cutlery jump up on the table with a loud clatter. He opened his mouth to insult the man across from him, but Voldemort held up his hand to stop him. "Think before you speak, Harry. I do believe you need me to help you."

Harry swallowed with difficulty and looked back at his hands. Voldemort got up from his seat and sat at his desk, pulling Harry off his chair and onto his knees next to the Dark Lord with a flick of his wand.

Voldemort let out an exasperated sigh as though it was his first time upon seeing the sorry state of Harry's hands. "All you had to do, Harry was bend your neck and you wouldn't be in this state. You could have called out in the night – I wouldn't have minded getting up to help you." His eyes suddenly started to dance with cruel delight, and he grabbed a bit of the loose rope and pulled it sharply out of the healing wound.

Harry screamed. The pain was unbelievable and Harry felt his vision blacken for the briefest moment as his head spun.

There was a terrible smell of puss and putrid infection in the air and blood and yellow thick sludge oozed from his cuts.

Harry leant over from where his hands were in Voldemort's vice hold and violently threw up with a combination of both pain and the smell of the infection.

"Aw, poor Harry." Voldemort whispered as he eyed the slightly green septic gunk dropped onto the dark wood floor. Harry shook from the sickening pain in his throbbing wrists – in a way crucio didn't feel as bad as this. He looked back up to the cruel man who held his hands and caught him watching him with sharp amusement.

"Now Harry, I will heal you as long as you promise to be on your best behaviour." He pursed his lipless mouth in question. "Or of course, I can leave them like this until the swell with infection again and your hands have to be removed. And trust me; they will get to that state if I leave them again."

Harry sighed painfully, and knowing that there was no way he could sacrifice his hands he nodded and muttered resentfully. "I'll behave – I. I promise."

Voldemort rolled his eyes at the boy's tone – but he knew Harry would stick to his word – Gryffindors seem to think that what they said made them honour bound. He cast as spell to clear out the wounds, the last of the putrid puss leaving the wounds to bleed clean, uninfected blood. He saw Harry retch again, stringy clear bile leaving his mouth and collecting on the floor. The boy's hands shrunk again until they were pale and thin, the skin clinging to the bones tightly and the blood pooling healthily under it.

He then healed the wounds until they were merely red and raw. The boy still need to be punished after all – and he needed to be reminded of his bad behaviour by the burn with every movement he made.

"Harry, would you like to stay out of the cupboard today? Without the ropes?" He asked softly, though his eyes gave away his vicious delight.

Harry's wrists were on fire and the skin was too delicate at the moment for him to be defiant, so he nodded reluctantly.

"Go and sit by the fire with Nagini then. Do not try and escape – you will not get out and you will also be punished for trying." Voldemort said a hint of steel and brutal cruelty in the order.

Harry pushed himself to his feet weakly as Voldemort cleared the mess off the floor with a wave of his wand. Harry managed to stagger over to the soft two-seater where Nagini was curled up. He sat down next to her, she shifted when he sat down heavily and moved to wrap around him, pulling him to lie down next to her.

_I will figure a way out of this._ He thought to himself. _He would play Voldemort's game and beat him in a Slytherin way._

Unwillingly his eyes started to close the pain still lingering in his wrists making him slightly drowsy; he relaxed against Nagini's comforting embrace and felt himself drift between sleep and wakefulness.

_He would get out of this hell._

**A/N – What do you think? Drop a review please? In fact, I am shamelessly asking for the same amount of feedback as the last chapter got - I need to know what you think! Seriously, it helps me to write this - I am a review glutton. ;)  
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**This will be a slow fic to be honest – I will work on it with my spare time – I have so little with my exams and studies and all but I will try.**

**Once again, thank you everyone who reviewed etc – it made my day(s).**

**Anyway let me know what you think of this chapter – it's not my best but let me know anyway? Please :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A/N –Un-betafied I'm afraid – so sorry if there are any mistakes.**

**Possession**

Harry was so tired and yet he was very comfortable with Nagini curled around him, hissing softly on occasion when he shifted from side to side. He curled himself inwards, pressing his forehead into the soft backing of the sofa. He felt his knees pull upwards towards his stomach and he sighed contently even though his enemy was sitting only a few feet from him working and watching him.

His thoughts drifted listlessly and he found himself thinking when (a traitorous, cynical part of him that liked to call itself _realistic_ instead of cynical, says _if_ ) he gets out of Voldemort's fortress (unlikely as Harry knows the man better than anyone else and just _knows_ there is only one way out with hundreds of traps and only one knows the way out) he is going to build himself a army of Hufflepuffs. Once they were trained up they would be amazing, you would have a loyal army – not even an army – with a team like that you had a _wall_. His thoughts changed direction again as he twisted his body further into the sofa. He frowned to himself - he wanted to be awake and alert but he couldn't do it. His wrists would flare angrily when he moved, the burn shooting up his fingers and his arms, and after the irritation settled, it irrationally made him tired and languid.

He had been like this for hours, constantly drifting out his semi-conscious state. Voldemort had briefly got up and left the room for a period of time that Harry couldn't identify but none the less when the man returned he smiled indulgently and remarked in a patronising tone "Good boy, Harry."

Harry merely grunted angrily, his eyelids and tongue too heavy for him to reply scathingly.

He felt Nagini rest her head on his cheek, her tongue flickering out and brushing his nose and then his eyelid. Evidently she was satisfied with what she tasted as she settled down on his face lightly. He hummed softly under his breath at her warm weight. He then heard the Dark Lord's amused huff and felt the man's fingers trail through his hair and down his face around Nagini's head. He shook his head sharply, trying to dislodge the fingers from him and the spike in pain they caused.

The fingers persisted and ran back through his hair again and Harry tiredly tried to curl inwards, a slight hiss of tiredness and irritation escaped his lips quietly.

Voldemort chuckled and said calmly. "Harry, it is time to get up now." The fingers gently removed Nagini from his body and grasped Harry by his chin. "It is nearly noon now. I want you up." The voice turned cooler and more demanding as the cold fingers and their yellow sharp nails scraped the red, inflamed and slightly flaky flesh of Harry's wrists.

Harry opened his eyes sharply, though they remained hazy with sleep as he moved his hands out of Voldemort's reach. The Dark Lord allowed himself a lazy smile as Harry struggled up, putting his hand on the boy's back and helping him up.

The boy slumped in his seat, his spine curving as his head automatically sought out the cushion on his right.

"No, no, Harry. You must stay awake." Voldemort cautioned as he pulled the boy back up by his upper arm. He gave the boy a little electric shock with his magic to help him wake up as he wouldn't be able to walk around to shake it off.

The boy startled and sat up with a gasp, he seemed to remain a little straighter loosing the sleepy look that clung to him. Voldemort smiled as the boy regarded him cautiously, pulling down the sleeves of his lose shirt over his vulnerable wrists. He placed the book from the night previous night in Harry's lap. "I want you to read this, Harry." That was the only thing he said as he watched Harry's reaction.

Harry scowled when he saw it and opened his mouth to object, but Voldemort moved sharply and had caught Harry's wrists surprising gently and said softly. "I'm not asking – you will do this Harry." It was very gentle – as gentle as the man's hands, but the hands tightened briefly and used the searing pain in his wrists to punctuate his point.

Harry's mouth closed, his teeth snapping together sharply, his lips pulling in as he bit the innards of his mouth, and he still looked put out and resilient.

"Harry, are you worried you might enjoy the read? Tempted? I know you can feel the dark in you...you want to give in, do you not?" Voldemort moved closer, his grip unrelenting. "You are very strong, Harry...But it is okay to give it now – I promise I will not judge you." Voldemort's other hand came out and turned the boy's face to him. "I'm very proud of you, my little Horcrux, such a strong boy – resisting for _so_ long."

Harry snarled angrily, baring his teeth at the truth spoken from his enemy's lips. Suddenly the man pulled the boy closer, spinning him around until Harry's back was pressed tightly against Voldemort's chest and Harry was being hugged possessively. Harry's body was slumped across the sofa, the top half pressed painfully against Voldemort's sternum, the Dark Lord's left hand was resting against Harry's throat and the right splayed over the boy's stomach. The right hand flexed against Harry's torso, the tips of the fingers applying a light pressure to Harry's flesh. "You can feel it in here, can't you?" Voldemort whispered in his ear, as he let magic trail across the boy's skin. Harry's whole form shuddered and his eyes rolled a little as he sighed out, unconsciously relaxing, his head lolling on the Dark Lord's shoulder and turning in towards the man's neck.

Voldemort took out Harry's wand from his pocket and pressed it into his hand, his own still wrapped around Harry's and he murmured to him coaxingly. "It hurts, I know..." He let out some more dark magic into the boy causing him just a little bit of pain. "You just have to let go – you'll feel _so_ much better."

Harry seemed to be captivated with the feeling of dark magic, as he let he Dark Lord manhandle him without a single protest, and he had become exceedingly agreeable to the idea of casting magic – releasing all that energy, so much energy that it was causing him pain.

Harry tightened his grip and readjusted it upon his wand, asking breathlessly, "What spell?" His wand sparked a little, magic eager to do his bidding.

Voldemort grinned, almost cheerily and his eyes sparkled with triumph as he continued whispering as though speaking louder would break the atmosphere. "Whatever spell you would like. I know you know many, Harry." He purred into the boy's ear.

Harry twisted the wand in their shared grasp for a few seconds, the tips flaring with all different colours and the taste of dark magic poignant in the air from their bodies. Voldemort stroked Harry's throat gently. "Go on, Harry, _good boy._" He praised, continually supporting him and letting little bursts of encouraging magic flow into his horcrux.

Harry opened his mouth but suddenly his eyes flared with awareness and he managed a chocked, pained "N-no!" and opened his hand, letting the wand tumble into his lap. He let out great heaving breaths and moans as his hand curled inwards, digging his nails into his palms as the pain twisted inside him again.

Voldemort's first instinct was to crush the boy's throat for dropping the wand and resisting – but then he felt a little pride at just how _strong_ Harry was and also seeing how hard it was for Harry to have done that...so would not be able to resist a second time. He still tightened his grip for a moment to momentarily stop Harry's breathing.

Firstly, he used his two hands to grab onto Harry's sharp pelvic bones -that no amount of Hogwarts meals had sorted out- and pull him up and closer to him. With his left hand, he picked up the wand and placed it again into the boy's hand – ignoring the protests and focussing completely on the way Harry's hand latched onto his wand like his life depended on it. He could feel the boy's resolve wearing away second by second and even his vocal protests quieting as the feeling of his wand in his hand suitably distracted and comforted him.

He could feel how close the boy was to giving in; his magic so close to the surface and Voldemort used his own to stir the boy's.

"I know it's hard Harry. Shh," He continued to stroke Harry's throat softly. "Just _one_ spell, Harry and you will feel so much better." He pressed his cheek onto Harry's, breathing softly and letting magic flow through his skin into Harry's skin, scar and brain. He let the magic hurt him and sooth him, just enough appropriate to encourage Harry into action. All the magic stopped him thinking clearly and he leaned in further to Voldemort's cheek, letting out an exuberant sigh of resignation. His hand shifted around his wand and he relaxed his body to curve to Voldemort's. The man smiled and he knew he had won this round. Voldemort continued to let the gentle flow of magic comfort the boy to a state of almost delirium before he asked.

"So Harry, what spell are you going to use?"

There was a few seconds of pure silence, only Harry's rough breathing filling the air as the wand twisted in his palm, trying to find the position that most comfortable, where his palm hand worn at the wood a little and his fingers found their place in the handle. Harry wet his mouth with tongue and despite knowing he shouldn't he decide to do it, he felt _sick_ with it all, so he was going to do it.

Harry didn't know what spell he had used, all he knew was the rush that followed after the magic had left him. His whole body arched up as though he had been shocked – but pleasantly and electrifyingly brilliant and he groaned loudly through clenched teeth. His wand fell from his limp fingers as his body seemed to spasm with a phantom pleasure that he didn't understand. He could feel Voldemort's smugness and wanted to bite his fingers off for it; they had left his throat and were caressing his face in delight. He knew the man was speaking but he couldn't distinguish what he was saying through the ringing in his ears.

Unfortunately the magic in him started to fade and he wanted it back. He wanted to fight, because if more of this..._rush_ accompanied it then it would be worth it. He swung his hand back at the man holding him, but the Dark Lord seemed to be expecting it as he caught the hand calmly and tried to lower it. Harry resisted, and twisted his body until he was almost straddling Voldemort's lap, Harry's fist held in Voldemort's own between them.

Harry was not quite sure how it escalated from there, but he knew he had got free and Voldemort and him had been in a fight – magic filled the air and the taste buds of them both and furniture laid in pieces all around them. Curses that Harry couldn't name flew from his wand and destroyed, liquefied and burnt everything they hit. Voldemort fired lighter ones back at him – trying to restrain rather than hurt him.

Harry, although a prodigy it seemed at the Dark Arts, was tiring quickly from lack of food and the new magic that seemed to both control and exhaust him at the same time. So, he did something stupid and Gryffindor, so when he came back to himself later he would be able to sleep without that feeling of betraying what he believes in. He took a running leap across the floor, wood and glass crunching under his feet and rugby tackled the Dark Lord to the floor – both their wands rolling away from their hands as their grips drifted to each other.

Voldemort soon had control of the situation though and rolled them both so he had Harry pinned – but Harry had already known he would not be escaping today anyway.

He laid there trapped by the Dark Lord by his hips and his hands pinned above his head with Voldemort's hand around the both of his wrists. Their breaths matched each other and with every inhale their chests pushed against each other as they stared each other out.

Then Harry found himself laughing. A maddened sort of laugh that occurs in a hysterical drunk or junkie and his green eyes were black with his dilated pupils and dark magic. He arched with his laughter, his lips _almost_ brushing the Dark Lord's in the process but he _does not_ care because he is so happy with himself and despite it all he is freer in this one moment than he has ever been at any point in his life.

Voldemort's eyes reflect that madness too – and Harry found himself briefly aware of the fact that the man above him may have held out as well – too long to wait as the dark arts were impatient and he must know the same rush as Harry does now.

They seemed to come to awareness at that point, lying on the ground together, maddened grins on their faces that there is no more playing any more. The playing field has been levelled because Voldemort wanted it to be and as brother wands both disappeared into the Dark Lord's pockets, Harry's eyes tracking them, nose to no-nose that they both knew. _The game had only just begun._

**A/N – Yes, now it is going to get very serious. Review anyone? Please?**

**Ahh, I know very, very short but I have a lot of work and little time these days. For my last chapter I only got 1 third of what I got for the last chapter review wise – not that I am not grateful – but me being a greedy pig – I would like more! The more motivation I get the quicker I will write - shameless, I know - I am almost blackmailing you there. Honestly, I don't mean too.  
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**I also have a question – do you want shorter chapters like this one – singular moments that come very quickly to me or do you want longer chapters that will take longer to write and piece together? Currently, singular moments are coming reasonably fast so if you want that you might get a few out of me quicker than if I have to mesh them together – but up to you guys as I can work with either.**

**There you go another reason the leave a review! ;) Let me know what you think so far! Please? :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A/N –Un-betafied I'm afraid – so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.**

**Possession**

When Harry came back to awareness from his high from dark magic he was aware of several things. One – Voldemort had repaired everything in the room, two – he was on the sofa again and three…the bastard had stolen his shoes...

Although that wouldn't deter him, it would make escape bloody uncomfortable. _Sadistic git!_ He looked around the room with only his eyes trying to spot Voldemort or anyone at all. He noticed that the man had also put a cushion under his head, if how comfortable he was any indicator. It made his irritation rise due to the fact Voldemort wasn't always a bastard when he got what he wanted. He noticed that the candles were only starting to brighten – obviously dimmed whilst he slept. The room was empty of the Dark Lord – maybe even the building – if the lack of pain in his scar was an indicator. He shut his eyes again and dosed lightly, knowing that there wasn't a way escape currently – he would get lost and who knows _what_ was in this fortress if he stepped off the beaten path. It was after this thought that his scar suddenly seared with agony – as though someone had pressed a heated blade onto it. His eyes flew open and he opened his mouth letting out a near soundless scream. Then the pain left him, nearly as quickly as it came, just an unpleasant prickliness remained in its after wake.

Harry sat up tiredly, scratching at the irritated scar as he did so and he looked at the drawn curtains. A sudden urge to go to the window filled him. He scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, before readjusting his glasses. His bare feet made slapping sounds as he plodded towards the large window. He pulled lightly at the heavy green velvet curtain that was so long it pooled on the floor, and peered out onto the grounds…only to see Voldemort, pale and God like in the middle of the great expanse of lands…looking right at him with hell-fire eyes and a razor smile to match. He lifted one pale finger and forming a crook, gestured to Harry to come to him.

Harry heard the door to the corridor unlock and open; he dropped the curtain and faced the door as it showed a bleak corridor with only a flickering flame from the sconce on the wall.

Harry looked out the door curiously, looking both left and right before cautiously stepping out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him causing him to startle and glare angrily at the wood as though it was to blame. He noticed another sconce light up in the distance and so he set of in that direction. As he got closer to the light he heard the snuff like sound of a candle being doused and he turned to see that the previous light had gone out.

Harry rolled his eyes exasperatedly at the fact that Voldemort was not going to let him go back. He noticed another light flicker into existence further down the cold corridor, he huffed under his breath and his eyes flickered around the dark, lightless patches in the corridor as though he might see the enemies that lurked within them. Putting his hands into his empty pockets and rolling his shoulders uneasily he continued following the lights.

He arrived at a grand set of stairs and an entrance hall lit up brightly with giant chandeliers with large feet that were buried deeply in the arching ceiling. The giant front doors were opened widely, letting in a cool breeze and showing the gravel path and lanterns that lit the expanse of the house up. He gingerly stepped onto the gravel, wincing when the stones dug sharply into his bare feet, but he endured travelling around to the back of the house.

He finally emerged to great expanse of grass that looked black in the night time. Voldemort stood in the middle with Nagini draped across his shoulders. In Voldemort's hand was a plain gold locket, glinting in the rays of the moonlight and in his other was a scrunched up note. The man was angry – very angry indeed by the looks of it and Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously – he could run, he thought to himself – there were even lights to guide the way! Then Voldemort spoke and spoiled his chance "They are Hinkypunks, Harry. I wouldn't trust them." He gave a low, controlled laugh and turned to him, eyes bright as furnaces "Haven't you noticed that we are near the marshes? At night people tend not to notice– or even if they are trying to escape they follow the lights. I do not waste time making my house look _pretty_."

Harry looked down to hide his embarrassment but turned to one of the lights and saw one of the creatures shuffle back into the brush hiding as though Harry hadn't already seen it.

"Harry," Voldemort purred softly drawing back his attention, "You are the secret keeper of one of the houses of Black, are you not?" He didn't wait for a reply for beginning to circle him. "Tell me, Harry, what is the secret? Where is it?" He felt like an oily hand had been brushed over his mind, its nails scraping across it trying to snatch information. Harry shuddered at the sensation and buckled onto his knees by the Dark Lord's side. Everything seemed to fade around him, the sensation of the grass strands tickling between his toes and the breeze that ruffled his hair. He felt a distinct tug in his mind and suddenly he wished he had tried to learn Occlumency as the image of Grimmauld Place was plucked from him. Then there was a fierce grip on the back his neck stopping him from falling face first into the grass and then he was forcibly taken away by Apparation.

**~Possession~**

He landed on all four of his limbs, each bone rattling with the force of being slammed into the cold dusty floor of Grimmauld Place. He grunted with the force and pushed himself up onto his knees but he had to sag against the bubbled, blackened wallpaper tiredly as his limbs trembled with the powerful attack on his mind.

Voldemort looked around the house with a distinct sneer on his face as he gently lowered Nagini to the floor. "_Help me find the locket._" He said softly to her as he stroked the back of her head straightening as he did so. He turned back to Harry, who despite his disgust at what he was sitting in, hadn't risen from the floor. "If you can get up, I want you to help – start with the basement kitchen. Look for a locket with an ornate S on it. It should be in this house." He said primly, and started to head towards the darkened stairs and was followed by Nagini. "Oh, Harry – you should know your little friends' lives depend on your effort tonight." Harry felt his stomach twist and despite his anger at Hermione he didn't want her to be killed – he wouldn't be able to cope with the guilt. He wished he could dissociate himself from people – his personality was not the right one for war.

Dumbledore had once theorised that through his mother's sacrifice of _love_ she had given him the ability to make friends, be loyal and caring. Due to his treatment at the Dursely's by all means he should have been a Voldemort in the making, but due to his mother apparently he wasn't. Harry didn't know whether to thank her or not. If he believed it, which he wasn't sure he did, it was debatable which team she had put him on – the winning or the losing side?

Voldemort passed the portrait of Walburga and it was only due to the quietness of both Voldemort and Nagini that the portrait didn't stir, although the curtains did twist and flair irritably as though she wanted to burst out.

Harry watched as the end of Voldemort's cloak disappear around the corner of the landing, he grit his teeth and curled his tongue in order to curve any noise he might make and he stuck his short nails into the thick wallpaper and pulled himself up into a standing position. He turned and tried to twist the handle of the front door, but it wouldn't budge and he rattled in angrily – he knew Voldemort wasn't so stupid to leave the door unlocked but Harry was aggravated and rattled the door though he knew that he was making an awful lot of noise.

He growled at the door and shook it with as much force as he could until he felt a cold hand the back of his neck "Harry," The git sounded amused, "Did you think I forgot that?"

Harry twisted out of the lose grip and leaned against the heavy, partially rotten wooden door as he grumbled under her breath a sullen "No…"

Voldemort laughed, as he pushed Harry down the hall and said "Seeing as you are on your feet now, why do you not check the kitchen and see if you can find anything?" His demanding hands were suddenly gone as the Dark Lord took the stairs but his voice drifted down them eerily with ease. "Remember Harry, your Mudblood's life depends on it."

Harry scowled and wished once again he wasn't so opposed to causing death but none the less he drifted down the stairs with a stagger, clutching at the banister though his life depended on it.

The kitchen was empty; as Harry knew it would be, but there was the most disquieting feel to it that hadn't even there when they were awaiting Mr Weasley's return from St. Mungo's in fifth year.

Harry looked around and just thought – how the hell was he going to find a bloody locket?

He suddenly felt a slight tug at his consciousness, and he followed it until he realised he was looking at Kreacher's cupboard. He grimaced, not sure if he had the stomach for what was in there, but he grabbed the handle and ripped open the door sharply, least he lost his nerve…or his stomach contents. An invisible cloud of toxic gas seemed to seep into the stale, but clean air of the kitchen and Harry felt his stomach flip as he looked at the black piled blankets that had oddly coloured stains upon them ranging from yellow and green to a peculiar shade of purple. He didn't have his wand and he didn't particularly have an inclination to search through the filthy blankets with his bare hands. He sat down on a crooked chair that when he shifted tilted from one uneven foot to another.

Then Harry remembered that the house was his now, including the retched little elf. "Kreacher!" He hissed sharply and lowly. The little haggard elf appeared in front of him with a quiet pop. The thing sneered at him before bowing shallowly "What does filthy half-blood master want?" It asked, in its scratchy and aged voice.

Harry pointed to the hovel in which Kreacher lived and asked softly "Do you have a locket in there?" He watched how the elf twitched with panic before it replied with a gruff and forced "No, filthy half-blood master. Kreacher does not."

"Don't lie to me!" Harry spat with aggravation before adding cruelly, with a hint of relish in his tone. "The Dark Lord is here – do you want to be caught lying to him?"

The small elf shuddered, his form convulsing as though he was remembering something terrible, though he shook his head again "No, filthy half-blood master, Kreacher has no locket."

"Liar! I'm ordering you to tell the truth! Where is it? He knows it's here! He read that bloody note!" Harry flung himself out of his chair, gritting his teeth against the pain of his abused nerve endings as they crashed onto the floor again and snatched the front of Kreacher's pillowcase. He breathed heavily and dragged the small creature close to his face and said in as much as a controlled voice as he could "Now, where is it Kreacher?"

Kreacher squirmed uncomfortably at Harry's dirty blood being near him before he pointed at the pile of blankets.

"Get it!" Harry let him go with brittle movements, his hand opening with a sharp snap like motion and the cloth slipped between his fingers. Kreacher stumbled out of his hold and scrambled backwards, hunching in on himself in the middle of the room. "That's an order!" Harry added, almost frothing at the mouth with his frustration.

The elf huddled in on itself and he went over to the blankets, he pushed a couple of the filthy things aside and pulled out a glinting chain.

The elf dropped it on the floor as though he were burnt and left with a pop, not bothering with his blankets or closing the cupboard door.

Harry held his breath and crawled slowly towards the very attractive and heavy locket. His breaths came out shaky and he snatched locket of the floor. It was very warm, as though there was life in the chained gold and emeralds.

He could hear the locket whispering to him, soothing him. "_It's alright, Brother. I am here now. Shh, brother._" Harry felt himself relax instantly; he pressed the locket to his lips as he restored his normal breathing pattern. The locket's open chain wrapped softly around his wrists. "_Brother, Brother, Brother._" The locket hummed lightly at him, pleasantly and soothingly as it left Harry's wrists and clasped itself around his neck. Harry felt as though all the muscles in his body had lost all their tone and strength. He slumped on the floor, and heard Voldemort come down the stairs almost silently a few moments later.

"Ahh, Harry, I see you have found it. Good boy, you see how easy it can be to obey me?" The man crouched down beside him, and grimaced at the sight of Kreacher's bed. He ran his fingers over the snake on the locket. "And I see that this one has taken just as much of a liking to you as Nagini has. I will leave it with you for now then."

The man pulled him up and they headed towards the front door, Voldemort picking up Nagini on the way there. Harry staggered down the concrete steps, his feet stinging from the stones that scraped the soles of them. As he reached the pavement he could hear the bricks slotting back into place as number twelve was concealed from view. Once again they apparated - right into Voldemort's quarters. Harry scowled – even Grimmauld Place held more charm than here – if only for the change of scenery. Though Harry had a little consolation - although he was still prisoner he had two things – the way out and one horcrux. He had a bit of leverage and he could slowly work his way out with both things.

**~Possession~**

Harry glanced at the closed door of his cupboard warily; he didn't want to go back in there, never again. Voldemort seemed to feel his apprehension because he smiled in a twisted manner as he stacked his books on his desk.

"Do you not like your cupboard, Horcrux?" He asked, false sorrow seeping into his words.

Harry looked at him from his place on the floor by the fire. "No! You know that I don't!" He hissed angrily, rubbing his knuckles with irritation.

"Well, there are only two places that you can possibly sleep, my little Horcrux. Your cupboard,… or my bed." Voldemort said in a matter-of-fact tone as he pushed a book back into its place on his bookshelf.

Harry sneered heavily, his fingers now intertwining with the locket's chain, feeling the soothing waves the horcrux gave to him. "I'm not sleeping in your bed!" He spat in disgust and alarm.

"Then your cupboard will have to do now, will it not?" Voldemort said as he screwed the lid of his ink back on. He set his quill next to it as he said "I will not have you somewhere where I cannot monitor you constantly. My bed or your cupboard." He waved his hand and several candles went out, and he opened the door to his bedroom so Nagini could go in. "You. Harry Potter are surprisingly resourceful when pushed, and cunning too." He opened the cupboard door and nodded towards it for Harry to go in "Do you think I do not know how you freed Lucius's elf? I will freely admit I found it surprising, you might even say pleasantly surprising." He smiled tightly and once again gestured with a little less patience for Harry to get into the cupboard.

Harry got into his cupboard with ill grace and found that the man had shrunk it at some point. The door was shut and locked behind him, but Voldemort did not leave for a second as though he was waiting for Harry to complain – after a few seconds of only quiet breathing from both parties Voldemort let out an amused noise – something between a hum and a snort. Harry saw the lights go out completely and he was bathed in darkness. He knew without a doubt that he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

It turned out that Harry lasted around an hour in the damn cupboard before the ache of having his knees around his ears became too much so he started to kick the cupboard door angrily, making it rattle and buckle but not break. He hoped Voldemort heard and couldn't sleep – he wanted that _bastard_ to suffer too!

He heard movement after a couple of minutes from the other room and then he heard a door open and he saw the light from a single floating candle approach the cupboard through the small grate. He still continued kicking the small, frail looking but deceptively strong door. He heard a vaguely irritated sigh as the man approached.

The next time he kicked his feet met nothing but cool air. He glared at the amused Voldemort who looked distinctly unruffled despite the hour. He burst out of the confined space with a tumble and managed to say once he had righted himself "I can't sleep in there!" because that was less embarrassing than saying he needed to sleep in Voldemort's bed.

The man raised a non-existent eyebrow before saying "Is that your way of asking to sleep in my bed?" He asked with a quirk of his lips that radiated smugness. Harry's lips curled inwards as though tasting something sour as he nodded and said "Please." He wrapped his hand around the chain, finding it just as comforting as Nagini – and trying to ignore the fact that he liked that they were pseudo siblings to him.

Normally, he would doubt that Voldemort would have accepted his one worded answer that did not beg like the man wanted him too but he seemed very pleased with the returned horcrux. Voldemort merely nodded and gestured for Harry to follow him. Harry got up, his muscles burning and stiff. He staggered a bit but quickly trailed after the man, holding his hands out to stop himself walking into anything that the tiny candle did not provide light to.

After Harry had crossed the threshold of the room the door closed behind him with a snap that echoed loudly with finality. Voldemort put the candle down on the bedside table and extinguished it with his fingers. A light hiss was the only sound in the room and the last thing Harry saw clearly was the ascending trail of grey from the candle wick.

He watched Voldemort get in the left side of the bed and he slowly got into the right side. He was rather glad that the bed was huge and could probably hold five or six people. Nagini hissed excitedly when she tasted him in the air, and slithered from Voldemort's side up to Harry and curled next to him as he curled up tightly himself. He glared at the man's back, but the man did not seem to care as he seemed to immediately go back to sleep.

Harry felt sleepy, in fact he was knckered the constant physical and mental attacks keeping him always wanting to sleep, but he couldn't relax being so close to the monster who kept him imprisoned. His muscles now ached due to his tensed posture; he rolled his eyes at his own situation of never being able to win. He shifted again slightly in the covers – something he had been doing for the last half hour. That seemed to be the last straw for the Dark Lord as he suddenly spun around in the covers, sitting upright and glaring at Harry.

Harry met his glare head on with one of his own and tried to stare the man down.

Voldemort snarled angrily and leant across to Harry; he snatched off the boy's glasses with a pointed look and slammed them down on the bedside table. He hissed angrily under his breath in words Harry couldn't distinguish as the Dark Lord snatched his collar and dragged him further into the bed – Harry would later deny that half of him was hanging out the other side in order to maintain a decent distance away from the Dark Lord.

When Voldemort finally let go of Harry's shirt he grasped his hair tightly, making Harry bare his neck, his red eyes seemed to glow brightly in the pitch black room. There was a light breeze across Harry's face when Voldemort blew a gentle stream of air from his lipless mouth, making Harry's eyelids flutter and a wave of sleepiness fell like a veil over him. _It must have been some kind of spell,_ Harry thought as he felt his body go lax and relax into the soft mattress.

"Sleep, little Horcrux." He heard Voldemort whisper gently as his hair was released and everything seemed to drift far away as he fell asleep. _Damn him,_ Harry thought.

**A/N – Review please?**

**There we go, another chapter – a much better length than the last couple, at least I think so. I liked the concept of this chapter, but I am not so sure I liked the way it played out – I think my writing is a little brittle at parts, but none the less I cannot figure a way to make it better unless I start to waffle pointlessly. **

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, alerted etc. **

**Please review and let me know what you thought of this one?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A/N –Un-betafied I'm afraid – so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. Ah, also this chapter is very short – I am sorry about that :( Also torture – quite explicit (?) Depends on your opinion.**

**Possession**

Harry woke to an empty bed – _thank Merlin! _- He didn't think Voldemort slept too much anyway and with Nagini acting as a giant bed divider it wasn't too bad. It was like they were in separate beds. He scowled at the blurry room and mismatch of colours. He hated it all. If Voldemort was in a good mood Harry decided he might ask about a separate bed – even if it meant good behaviour for a while. He swung his legs out of the bed, his feet automatically curling and flinching back when they met the cold floor.

There was a note left by his glasses, he noticed as he picked them up and after he put them he read the short script that merely said _Have yourself breakfast, and read the book left for you._

Harry shrugged to himself as he crossed the room and cautiously opened the door. He noticed a small table set by the fireplace with a small plate on it. The atmosphere in the room was thick even though it was only Harry there. He managed to eat his food calmly, though his stomach was churning, whilst searching the room with his eyes.

_He's not here, Brother, you know that._ The chain shifted around his neck as it warmed comfortingly. _What book has he left us, Brother?_ It asked him.

Harry shoved his food around his plate worriedly – wondering if Voldemort was going to jump around a corner at any moment. He glanced at the plain covered book briefly and dismissed it without picking it up. He shoved the plate away from himself distractedly leaving half the food on it. He stood up and spun on his heel, looking for anything he could use to occupy his time, or even help him escape. He jumped when the table and everything on it disappeared, apart from the book which dropped onto the rug with a muffled thud. Harry decided he didn't want to read it and wondered if other books on the shelves had any useful information in them. He walked up to the many bookcases, his bare feet making barely a sound on the cold wooden floor. He ran his fingers over the spines of the books – not touching – he didn't know if they were cursed by Voldemort or not. Unfortunately he couldn't find anything that was written in English or anything that was about even grey magic. He sighed angrily and walked over to the window where light was pouring in.

He looked out at the great expanse of greenery, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. His head was burning – his scar specifically – but these days it_ always_ ached a little. _He_ was angry again. Then again when was Voldemort _not_ angry?

He shut his eyes, shifting his face so he could place his cheek against the glass. As he his eyes closed, his knees buckled as he thrown into a vision.

_Ron and Hermione were running ahead, covered in blood and bruises. They staggered around the corner, a green curse hitting the wall seconds after the trail of Hermione's hair disappeared around it._

Harry pried opened his eyes with force and he got a snippet of grass and the two figures running across it. He felt like his eyelids were being pushed together but he strained to watch them disappear into the woods at the back of Voldemort's estate. He squinted and shifted his head trying to see them again – did they get out?

His scar seared as Voldemort stormed into his quarter's magic mad, violent, destructive…Harry oddly felt as though he was being compressed against the window. Voldemort spotted him and his eyes narrowed as he strode over to Harry. "Did you see your little friends _escape?_" He asked starchily "I will get them back!" He hissed. He grabbed Harry's shoulders and shook him brutally "They didn't even to think about you, my little Horcrux. They just ran…left you to rot." His horrid snake face contorted in vicious glee as he continued softly and mockingly, "Left you here with me." He spun sharply around and started to pace.

Harry had presumed they tried, but if they actually had…he wasn't so sure. Though, why hadn't they even tried to help him? The answer was obvious – there was no way they could get him out – they didn't know where he was. They must have gone for back-up…he hoped. However – how had they escaped anyway? Harry had presumed that Voldemort's fortress was impossible to get out of – if only due to the amount of death eaters lingering around the place.

Despites the excuses and reasons Harry couldn't help but return to the thought -Ron and Hermione had _escaped_ _without_ him?

Harry quickly reminded himself that Voldemort could be lying – but from the amount of anger _rolling_ of the man in tidal waves, he seriously doubted the man was faking their escape.

He felt a deep flair of pain at their betrayal, like a scab had been pulled off an open wound. _How could they? Did he mean nothing to them? _He looked at Voldemort warily as the man paced restlessly. Nagini slithered over to him and curled around him. She squeezed Harry in her coils comfortingly as she too watched the Dark Lord suddenly smash the marble statues that stood either side of the mantel piece.

The locket chuckled to him as it wriggled on his chest, the dark magic in it pulling at the growing darkness of his own magic. He ignored it to the best of his ability as he watched Voldemort bare his teeth at the walls. Nagini shifted off his shoulders and obviously tried to make herself scarce as she hid under Voldemort's desk.

"You're wrong." He whispered, mostly to himself, but Voldemort turned to him in fury. "They'll come back for me – they're my friends." He sneered and felt that he needed to say it, needed to vent, needed to hurt Voldemort. "I have people who care for me – unlike you!" He took a deep breath for courage, "You're nothing!" He stood up, springing from his crouch and striding to the black clad man "I _pity_ you! You're worth nothing! Nothing more than my pity!"

He didn't hear what spell Voldemort used on him – he did know however that is was very, very painful, not as painful as a crucio but it was terrible none the less. He curled in on himself as the pain intensified, like a burning in his bones and a vice tightening around his heart. His pressed his face to the cold floor, feeling the sweat beading on his forehead. There was a groan that he thought was him, but the sounds around him had faded, and the colours of the room had lost their definition. Objects lost their shape as it all blurred into nothing, until it faded into beige. The pain felt like it was contracting his muscles, pulling them in and in and in until they couldn't move anymore.

He felt his body contort suddenly locking in place like set cement. The floor moved suddenly, or was it him? His whole back arched as the muscles tightened around his spine.

He wanted it to stop – somehow this was worse than a crucio. This slow build up was killing him, in more than one sense. His muscles were locking in his jaw causing it to remain in a twisted shape. He felt his lungs shrinking in his chest, breathing harder and harder…tighter and tighter…and then his heart…slowing…slowing… _slow…ing...slo…wing_. Uneven struggling beats, hands formed like claws unable to clutch at his chest….unable to cry. Tears squeezed out clenched eyes wouldn't (_couldn't_) open. Though suddenly Harry got a glimpse of Lily's (_blurred, fuzzy_) smile, heard Sirius's laugh, the golden snitch flying ahead…and he _knew_ this was the end. _They did say that your life flashes before your eyes, didn't they?_

The powerful curse ended, at least he thought it did – or maybe he died…But there were spots of colour coming back, blinks of grey in the never ending black. The occasional red eye flickering in and out of his vision, the crack in the ceiling that kept swimming out of focus… He must be alive – he ached all over.

He could hear a gurgling sound…somewhere close…in fact he could feel it vibrating in this back of his throat.

Hands. Cold ones.

They pushed him on his side, he could feel his left arm and hand, but he couldn't – he knew they were there and knew he was leaning on them but they did not feel a part of him. _Strange._ He felt a very warm liquid trickle out the corner of his mouth – it tasted metallic, and it clung to his taste buds and teeth – he didn't like whatev-_blood!_ That was what it was, wasn't it? He could feel awareness creep back in, he felt like he had more grasp of things now. He managed to curl his tongue enough to spit the rest of the blood out. He could feel his face wet with tears and sweat.

Harry pushed himself up on buckling arms until he was upright. He breathed deeply, before suddenly bending over to be sick as his stomach untwisted. He took in great heaving breaths through his open mouth, attempting to ignore the slightly sweet and acerbic taste of his own vomit.

The feeling of euphoria that he was _alive_ burst from within – even though his circumstances were not the best, he was alive!

A cold hand clapped his cheek bringing him out of his daze. His eyes focused on Voldemort who was scowling heavily at him. He sneered at Harry when he caught his attention and he stood up from his crouch.

Harry got to his feet cautiously, his legs trembling before saying "You're fucking mad!" He sneered at the man in turn before spitting spitefully "You nearly killed me!"

"You're pathetic, Potter. Cannot withstand pain for a few moments. _Pathetic._" The man hissed at him scornfully. He smashed the mirrors in the room and a couple of windowpanes in the largest window.

"No! You're the one who is pathetic! You're acting like a bloody five year old!" Harry yelled back, finding the man oddly insulting in the fact that he 'apparently' couldn't withstand pain.

A violent lash of magic knocked Harry to fall flat on his back. The Dark Lord strode over to him and glared down at the fallen boy and Harry glared back from his undignified position.

Voldemort kicked Harry hard in the stomach causing Harry to be winded, but he still managed to wheeze laughter. "Muggle upbringing rearing its ugly head, is it?" He taunted as his hands cradled his bruised stomach.

Another curse hit him in the chest making his ribs bend painfully applying pressure to his lungs and heart. His eyes crossed briefly at the bizarre feeling before he felt the ribs spring back into shape. He coughed loudly due the irritation his lungs felt after being compressed. Voldemort lent over him, eyes bright as hellfire as he whispered in a sinfully cruel tone, "Honestly, Harry, do you really think you can stand against me?" Voldemort asked cruelly, a deranged sneer on his snake like face. He laughed, rather manically before abruptly his face became as impassive as stone. "Silly, silly, little Harry…" He cupped Harry's face in one of his long hands and he squeezed Harry's jaw with brutal force. "Harry – you are merely a horcrux – you can and will do _nothing_ that I do not want you to." He smirked with maliciousness and as he let go one of his sharp yellow nails nicked Harry's skin causing it to bleed slightly. Voldemort licked his nail quickly cleaning it of the blood on it. He tapped his lips with a carefully controlled gentleness as he thought.

The Dark Lord's eyes suddenly sharpened with violent rapture and he turned sharply, walking out of his chambers with the doors closing behind him with such force they rattled.

Harry lay on the floor with wide eyes, just staring at the shaking doors in shock. He had expected more composure from the man – even in this state of temper. He didn't know why he did but he just _did_.

_I wouldn't have been that callous, Brother._ The locket murmured to him softly. Harry just rolled his eyes in the almost petty way the locket tried to steal his attention as often as it could.

Harry pushed himself up so he was leaning on his left thigh with the support of his left forearm braced on the cold floor.

Harry shivered as a chilly breeze swept through the room…his eyes widened. _Breeze?_ He thought as he turned to the large sash window noticing that in his anger Voldemort had left a couple of the panes smashed and half the latch was blown away, meaning the window was no longer locked…and Harry was never one to miss such an opportunity.

**A/N – Review please?**

**Right this is important – you can decide whether Harry escapes or Harry gets caught in his attempt…Whatever you want let me know, because I can work with either.**

**I am not happy with this chapter at all - sorry if that has come through in my writing style…**

**Sorry if you do not like torture, I saw something that really angered me the other day and seeing as I couldn't do this in real life I had to vent here. Beware the wrath of me :P**

**I'm sorry about the length of this chapter – and I'm afraid it will be the last for a while – exams are coming up and I need to revise for them. So no updates till at least Feb 2012 :( However as compensation I will make it really good :)**

**Also as I will not be back before, I shall say now: Merry Christmas - for those who celebrate it and a Happy New Year for everyone! :) **

**Review please :) **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N – Un-betafied I'm afraid – so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes. Also bit of torture – make of it what you will. **

**As I said a longer chapter to make up for the wait (paid off AMAZINGLY by the way.) Thanks for all your reviews :)**

**Also Bellatrix's behaviour (can be seen) in this chapter as suggestive – but no nothing is meant by it – she just loves torturing.**

**Possession**

Harry slowly got up, looking over at the desk where he could just see the tip of Nagini's tail before he crept towards the window. Minding the shattered glass that littered the frame and sill he hooked his fingers onto the handles and carefully pulled the window up. He breathed a slow controlled sigh of relief when it barely made a sound. He hooked it on the latch to make sure it was secure when he let go it. He gently pried his sweaty fingers off and waited with baited breath for a few seconds. When nothing happened Harry swallowed nervously and shot a guilty glance back at the coiled snake that seemed to be dozing. He had the feeling he was going to miss her greatly, his pseudo sibling but none the less he grit his teeth and turned away from her, shutting down feelings to be dealt with later. He blew on his fingers making sure no microscopic glass clung to the tips waiting for pressure to dig themselves into his flesh. He brushed his slightly wet hands against his trousers briskly as he braced his hands against either side of the window.

Warily Harry put his feet on the outside ledge, his fingers nimbly holding onto the thin wooden frame of the window. Using the tips of his toes he dusted the window ledge of glass, hoping there wasn't any death eaters lingering below him.

He eyed the ivy that had crawled up the wall next to him; he noticed how the roots had deeply embedded themselves into the bricks the giant thick tentacles making them crumble and change shape. Harry reached across and tugged it firmly – no movement at all, the walls obviously were supported with magic – and thus the ivy was very secure – Voldemort wouldn't want his house falling down due to the ivy.

Harry's mouth formed an 'O' of worry as he steadied himself to at least attempt to climb down the ivy. Rubbing his lips together and licking them Harry calmed his nerves before securing his foot into the deep foliage, ignoring the tickling leaves and the painful twisted roots that were pressing on the arches of his feet. Harry grit his teeth and before he could regret he swung himself completely onto the plant. He felt the whole plant shift slightly but then settle into unnatural stillness. Harry then quickly descended not wishing to try his luck any longer than he needed to; he endured the biting pains of the twigs and roots into his feet and eventually managed to reach the ground. He eyed his red hands with worry, blisters surely would develop on the angry burn like marks. He searched the ground with his eyes worriedly and started to edge around the house as fast as he could. He gasped loudly at one stage, a stab of pain in his foot causing it to curl with the sting. His stomach rolled a little with the feeling and his eyes crossed too. He reached down and plucked the small stone that was dug into his flesh from between his toes and through it down angrily.

He hurried onto the grass and sighed at the relief from the gravel to the soft grass, he quickly ran however, worrying about the _lack_ of activity from people around. Harry wondered if it was a trap but none the less continued. He made sure to head in the opposite way to Ron and Hermione – as the death eater's would most definitely be looking for them. He slipped soundlessly into the dark woods, instantly the green leaves covering him. He staggered around in the almost black woods until he could hear whispering "_This way…_" It called to him. He turned to it and saw a glowing little snake on the trunk of tree. He quelled in the instinct to rear back from it and instead asked "_Where will you take me? To the other side?_" He asked, and the snake nodded its little head. Harry nodded at it and saw another little snake glowing in the distance. He hissed his thanks before grasping trees in order to stabilise himself. It was rather genius Harry thought, so very simplistic to actually have snakes guiding the way when anyone in the Dark Lord's 'care' would avoid the snakes due to fear and get lost in the woods.

He finally managed to get to the end of the dark woods and at least here a smattering of light let patches of green emerge from the black. Harry could feel the ground smoothing out, no longer disturbed by dead leaves, roots…or cadavers.

He emerged at a crumbling old wall. Harry looked at the small bricks that looked that made the wall look like it had been built by the Tudors. He noticed the small holes in the bricks and mentally patched out a way to get over the wall. Harry hooked his fingers into the bricks and climbed up it painfully, his toes often slipping slightly, scrapping the rough brick before managing to swing himself up onto the wall. Harry sighed tiredly for a moment bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He managed to sling himself over the other side and clenched his teeth at the painful landing that made his bones vibrate. Twigs, stones and brittle leaves punctured his feet as he moved but he forced himself to continue – he had come much too far to fall back now. As he limped further into the considerably lighter woodland Harry heard the most panicked and terrified scream he had ever heard. It sounded like Hermione. He paused, wavering on the spot with one foot stretched out to take him to freedom and the other half to take him to her.

Harry clenched his fists, ignoring the stinging of his nails into his palms before making his decision to go forward or backwards. He turned his back on the old wall and what lay behind it.

He carried on.

**~Possession~**

Hermione and Ron had been separated in the dark woods, one minute Ron had been there clutching her hand and the next his hand had slipped from hers and he was swallowed in the blackness around them. She called out but sound seemed to disappear in the void they were inhabiting. She darted away, panicked, from the glowing snakes that decorating the trees. She supressed the sound of fear she wanted to let out and scrambled against the large trunks with crumbling bark. She pushed her weight away from the cold scratchy bark and carried on walking. Finally Hermione broke free of the claustrophobic atmosphere, but as she turned around in hope she came face to face with the prison she has just escaped. The suns glare blinded Hermione temporarily and she shaded her eyes with her hand as she squinted against it.

"HA!" She heard a victorious shriek of triumph and she turned to see Bellatrix hunched predatorily a few feet away, wand pointing at her. "Caught you, ickle Mudblood." She cackled, a maddened warped grin twisting her face.

Hermione started, hand dropping as if to grab her wand, but she remembered – she didn't have it so she darted back into the forest, heedless to Bellatrix following her – Hermione presumed that the mad women would get lost in the darkness too.

Once she was in the trees she darted around, trying to avoid the snakes and the thick trunks. She could feel her heavy breaths but apart from the slight chill in the air causing white little puffs to burst from her lips there was no sound to indicate her location. Hermione suddenly tripped on one of the roots, falling down and scratching her body on the rough foliage on the forest floor. Bellatrix was instantly on her, pinning the girl's wrists with her cruel hands, wand – lit with a _lumos_ - between her rotten teeth. Hermione scrambled in the dirt, her back arching painfully and managed to swing her foot up and kick Bellatrix in the face. With an alarmed, pained grunt the witch fell back in a mass of dark robes and curls, her wand rolling away and the light going out. Hermione twisted herself around and pushed herself up, readying herself to run again.

Bellatrix sat up with an angry huff and catching the outline of the girl getting up she leapt at her on all fours, not trying to get up.

Bellatrix snatched Hermione's ankle and tugged sharply, pulling the tired girl to the ground and dragged her back to where the dark witch was seated causing the younger girls shirt to rip on the rough forest floor. Bellatrix summoned her wand and crawled up to the prone girl and grasped her shoulder, turning her over to look at the girl's battered face.

"Naughty, naughty Mudblood." She crooned at the girl in faux gentleness. "Where do you think you're going?" She ran her fingers over the exposed sharp ribs, applying pressure to the pale flesh. "You are in trouble don't you know, ickle Mudblood?" Bella continued. "I think we should make you look pretty for the boys now – shouldn't we?" She asked as she made the top Hermione was wearing vanish and the girl shrieked in embarrassment.

Bellatrix withdrew a knife that she had strapped to her wrist and she pressed it carefully to Hermione's stomach. Slowly…the moment not to be wasted, Bellatrix cut the taunt flesh. Blood swelled up like a giant shining red bubble that wobbled before splitting and running in rivulets down Hermione's sides.

Blood slicked Hermione's sternum. Blood clashed against the startling white bone of Hermione's rib cage. _Beautiful._

Bellatrix cut right up to Hermione's collar bones and eyed the blood spilling thoughtfully as she leaned closer and closer.

"My mother never let my sisters and me play in the mud," Bella whispered into the girl's throat gently as she bit into it, leaving a ring moat of tooth marks in purple. "We were Blacks you see – too proud and beautiful to be playing in the filth like the other filthy children." She continued, ignoring the blood trickling down her chin. "I always resented her for that, you see mudblood, I always enjoyed getting dirty." She smiled lecherously at the heavily breathing girl. "I always wanted to play in the mud…" She trailed off, running her nails through the thick blood that coated the creamy flesh of Hermione's stomach. "…Wondered how it would taste…" She bent her head down, her giant black ringlets sticking to the blood and she ran her across the blood stained skin, probing at the open wounds with her hot demanding tongue. Hermione let out a piercing wail of pain, and she could feel Bellatrix smile against her skin. Her tongue left the wound and trail up and lick the underside of Hermione's left breast all the way around and up to the girl's collar bone and up the girl's throat.

"Who knew that playing with mud could be so fun?" Bellatrix whispered against Hermione's lips. "Oh, yes" She continued "The boys are going to _love_ you. You see the boys like playing in mud too."

She wrapped her blood slicked hand in Hermione's frizzy hair before dragging her up. She frog marched her to the edge of the forest where she saw the Dark Lord standing facing the house.

The dark magic in the air was almost suffocating, the individual strands clutching at her throat threateningly. Hermione let out a miniscule sound of fear whilst Bellatrix's eyes rolled in pleasure but even she could tell something was wrong.

"My Lord?" Bellatrix asked concernedly, almost breathlessly as she maintained her distance from him. He was focussing on the large house with wide eyes…focusing on an open window, to his office. Bellatrix frowned, let go of Hermione's hair and silently moved backwards and sunk to her knees waiting for the outburst, she knew he kept Potter there.

The Dark Lord turned sharply, magic ripping through the air like a giant hand. Bellatrix pressed her face into the ground, red globules of blood dripping off her wet curls into the strands of grass.

There was loud squelching sound and Bellatrix glanced up from behind a sheet of hair to see the Granger girl trembling on her feet, and her stomach ripped open. The girl's entrails were wrapped around her feet and resting in the grass. Bella's eyes darted to Voldemort who was breathing sharply and glaring at the girl. He swallowed heavily before visibly reeling himself in, with a wave of his wand the slimy entrails were pulled back into the large wound and the skin knitted itself back together leaving a large purple scar. "You had better hope, Mudblood that I get him back – or I will make sure you're the one paying the price." He hissed at her, as she lost the colour in her face and turned a ghastly grey before dropping onto the wet grass.

"Bella" Voldemort hissed, septic, "Find Potter – it is of uttermost importance – and I do not want him harmed in the slightest!"

Bellatrix nodded reverently before cautiously getting to her feet.

**~Possession~**

Harry, shortly after running away had heard the tell-tale sound of a passing car. He had hurried towards the sound and emerged as a road travelling through the middle of the woods. Of course he had missed the car but at least he could establish a route to take instead of wondering aimlessly between the trees. He had been walking for about half an hour when his scar ripped in two, he groaned lowly, sliding down to his knees as a brief image of an open window flicked through his head before Harry managed to pull himself together and push himself to his unsteady feet. Harry staggered over the small stones, wincing at the sting he felt as they tore at the delicate skin on the underside of the arch of his foot. He pause catching his breath as he braced his hands on his knees, he looked around at the empty road. Odd how Voldemort kept all his homes near something that was muggle – easy to pick up some poor bugger for torture he supposed. He straightened up. Bracing his right hand against his ribs as he breathed heavily he continued to walk down the road though his eyes darted around the dark trees warily so he began to run lightly instead. As he was running it finally seemed to sink in – Voldemort was aware he was gone and would now be coming after him…._shit!_

**~Possession~**

After running for two hours straight Harry was exhausted, but fortunately he had a stroke of luck by coming up to a small muggle village. He was very relieved to see a small pub and inn sitting in the centre of the village – a large part was if only to get out of the sight of the people who kept peering out from behind their net curtains as he passed by the little houses. He walked in the open door, the smell of alcohol wafting over him and he leaned heavily on the doorframe. A middle aged woman glanced up when his shadow fell across her, she squinted at him before taking in his appearance, bloody scar, hands and feet, purple rings under his eyes and slumped posture. She put down the glass she was polishing and darted over to him clutching at his arm and drawing him further into the pub. An old man with bloodshot eyes looked at Harry as he drank his pint. He frowned at Harry as he put it down heavily on the bar; he leaned on his elbow and scowled at Harry suspiciously.

Harry hobbled with the woman to a seat that she shoved him into. "Was it them?" She asked urgently.

"Them?" Harry croaked, hoping she wasn't aware as he thought she was.

"We've had one or two people like you arrive-" She gestured at his appearance "Beaten up something fierce. Claimed they were taken into some house with some nut jobs! Did it happen to you?" She reminded Harry distinctly of Mrs Weasley as she patted him down nervously. "Well don't you worry, lad. They won't come for you here – they never have before!" She nodded with a knowing look. Bare arms Harry noticed – meant nothing, but he was so exhausted he _needed_ help; it seemed he had to take this chance. He heard the woman talking again "Scared I bet," She went behind the bar and grabbed some keys, bustling back over to him. "Sheer number of us probably overwhelms them."

Harry doubted that statement – he was something more than just a muggle to play with and Voldemort would want him back, although villages being attacked attracted the ministry and the Order of the Phoenix so there would be a distinct chance of Voldemort's base being found – no matter the wards on the place. However he was too tired and sore to object to her views as she pulled him up and showed him to a room. "I'll get some first aid gear for your injuries – we'll get the doctor in tomorrow." She flicked on the bathroom switch and pushed him inside muttering as she did so "And give me those clothes – odd as they are – I'll get them laundered for you." She waited outside as Harry took all his clothes barring his underwear, he opened the door cautiously and she snatched the bundle away from him. "No need to look so cautious, dear! No one will harm you under my roof!" She dumped his clothes into a plastic basket by her feet before picking up some pyjamas and handing them to Harry "I will not turn anyone away – especially if they are in trouble." She gave him a stern look to which Harry flushed at slightly – honestly at his age being scolded by a woman whilst in his underwear. She chuckled rather warmly before saying "I'll find you some fresh underwear too." Then she bustled off again, shutting the door behind her. Harry looked at the closed door in a bemused fashion before going back into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and grabbed the complementary soaps that were sitting by the towels.

He looked at his bleeding fingers.

This was going to hurt.

After submerging himself under the stream of water and gritting his teeth against the pain of hot water into his open wounds he finally got the courage to use soap. Harry almost wished he hadn't – it stung his finger tips and all the little wounds that Harry hadn't really noticed until the soap (acid) was invading them.

After a gruelling ten minute shower Harry managed to dry himself off and get into the loaned pyjamas which were blissfully soft and fresh.

He heard the woman call in saying she had left some things for him on the side and that she would call the doctor first thing in the morning, when he was back from his trip, to come look at him. Before she left she said to call if he needed anything and not to worry that everything would be fine. Harry smiled in amusement at her and hoped to whoever would listen that she was right – and most importantly that she would be alright when he had left – he couldn't bear the thought that she would suffer for harbouring him – though he knew there was a large possibility that she would – he still couldn't bring himself to leave.

Harry started to fill the tub with warm water to clean his feet, he turned his back to the tub and sat on the rim of it tiredly.

He put his aching feet flat on the cold floor, wincing a little at a different type of sharpness piercing his feet, but he sighed at the almost good feeling. He looked around the room with apathetic interest as he wiggled some feeling back into his numb toes. Harry let his head fall to his chest heavily, a tight weight of sadness sitting in his gut. He swallowed uncomfortably as he looked at his own red raw feet – he winced as he shifted them, seeing red stained little stones left behind – he dreaded putting his feet into the water. He could feel the effects of aftermath of the adrenaline burst now, the heaviness of his limbs getting the best of him and the betrayed feeling he had from being left behind by Ron and Hermione kept lurching in him like the tide on the beach. Harry licked his lips resolutely determined he wasn't going to break down, at least not yet – he couldn't afford that just yet.

He turned back to the tub and turned the tap of with a sharp angry movement of his hand. Harry hobbled over to the towel rack and snatched a white one of it.

He had to bite his lip when his feet first brushed the surface of the water and the surge of fire that dug into his cuts. Gritting his teeth Harry stuck both feet under the water. He muttered curses under his breath and wrung the towel around his hands tightly, with a tightly controlled exhale Harry slowly relaxed his hands and unclenched his screwed up face. He watched the water turn slightly pink, the dark red slowly spreading out into faint pink dispersing fingers in the white bath.

And Merlin he felt so alone. Where did he go from here? He had safe houses that he had bought but he missed people –Voldemort was an arsehole but he was someone to talk to, fight with…and at least someone he could _rely_ on to make his life hell. Harry paused at that thought worried about thinking like that about his enemy. He frowned and he distractedly lifted his right foot out from the water, placing it on his left knee. He looked at the ruined flesh and gently dapped at it with the towel, hissing under his breath with each gentle press of the starchy (washed in cheapest washing powder) towel, he ignored how red the towel became as he completed his work and picked up the pair of tweezers he had acquired from the bathroom cabinet. He braced himself before slowly pulling out the debris set into the minute but deep wounds of his foot. The pain was terrific and with each prod and pull of the tweezers or the movement of stone or bark a sharp burst of sickness would shoot up Harry's throat. He could feel heat under his skin, and he was almost sweating with the effort. And after all this was of course his other foot. Much the same process occurred until both feet were completely clean and the bath was almost completely red as well as the towels.

Harry snatched up the bag given to him with the ointments in them, handling the Germoline with a bizarre fondness for a reason he couldn't really place – he hadn't used the stuff in years, mostly his wounds were left to fester when he was a child but he had seen Petunia apply it to Dudley's grazes whilst he bawled his eyes out after losing a single layer of skin. He lay on the bed breathing heavily, exhaustedly and his feet were stinging painfully. He lathered the cream into his feet a constant throbbing in them almost making it hard to walk. He wrapped the bandages around them afterwards and tightly, huffing and wondering how he had coped when he was a child – being a wizard had certainly encouraged his laziness. With Harry's feet looking like they were in two novelty slippers Harry decided to try and get some sleep – after he checked the door (twice) and drew the blinds and curtains. He turned on the TV for a while, watching _Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho_ for a while before he found his head lolling onto his shoulder. Using the remote he switched the TV onto standby, much too tired to actually turn it off, and put the remote on the side, his glasses next to it before wrapping himself the duvet and drifting off to sleep.

**~Possession~**

His scar ripped open in pain, and if the warmth on caressing his forehead and face were any indicator then it literally had ripped open too. Sharp caws ran all over his mind, hooked fingers scratching all the crevices and folds of his brain.

_Where are you, my little Horcrux?_ Voldemort whispered in his mind, his fury brutal as hellfire.

Harry let out a tiny whimper, holding back the screams that would awake the whole town.

He felt a hand pressing on his chest, pressing painfully, he managed to open his eyes and see a white, long bony hand. He could see Voldemort's red eyes and bone like face sneering down at him.

He wasn't really there – but he nearly was – so very nearly was.

_Your mine!_ Voldemort hissed at him

Suddenly the locket reared to life, tightening around Harry's neck – not to a painful extent but clear possessiveness in its intentions.

It made this high pitch squealing sound, and it yelled _MINE! MINE! MINE! MINE! _

The claw like sensation in Harry's mind suddenly went, as did Voldemort's apparition, the pain completely disappeared too – as though his mind had been shut off from Voldemort's mind. His scar stung a little – heat behind it throbbing but that was due to the reopened tissue.

_There, there Brother, _the locket whispered to him _He will not hurt _my_ Brother._

Harry felt a little exasperated with all the possessiveness of Voldemort and all his little…trinkets.

The chain was warm and comforting around his neck _I will not let him harm you, Brother._ It whispered to him, all he could do was whisper a soft thank you to it before he fell asleep again.

**~Possession~**

When Harry awoke the next morning the first thing he noticed was how well rested he was. As he sat up he suddenly realised his bloody foot prints were all over the bathroom, no doubt they were all along the road he had walked down. _Fuck!_ He had left an equivalent trail to Hazel and Gretel's breadcrumb one – leading the Dark Lord right to him. He needed to get out of here and fast. His chest felt a little achy and he looked down to see five finger shaped bruises marring his skin. Harry frowned concernedly – he had hoped it was a dream. The bruises and the blood flaking from his forehead led him to believe otherwise however.

It suddenly came to his attention the locket was stone cold.

He took the heavy thing in his hand to peer at it, but the chain fell apart in his hand. He looked at it for a while before he watched the whole thing slowly turn to ash in his hand. The ashes landed on the bed covers in front of him and he stared at it for a while before looking around the room frightfully _where had the horcrux gone?_ He felt a chill travel up his spin and he shuddered at the sensation. Suddenly he heard a voice in the back of his mind – not just speaking to him, but actually in his mind _Do not worry, Brother, I am still here – I have just relocated._

Oh Merlin, Harry thought, he now had another horcux in him.

His worth had just doubled.

**A/N – Review please – I'm hoping it was worth the wait :S I know the wait was ages but real life unfortunately comes before fanfiction - not doing any fanfiction in that time paid of **_**so**_** much for me! :D**

**As I said earlier – Bellatrix's behaviour will amount to nothing, she just loves torture and… y'know…whatever gets her going – but nothing will happen, just so you know.**

**Harry will be remaining free for a couple of chapters at least – just so he can gather his bearings, but he will be caught eventually.**

**Anyway – let me know what you think – review! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A/N – As usual, depending on your sensibilities, you might not like some of the descriptions this chapter. Un-beta-fied again but double checked as best as I can, so apologies for any mistakes you shall (undoubtedly) find. **

**Also VERY IMPORTANT notice at the bottom of this chapter – I'll give you a hint now – it is exam season again so updates will be even slower than usual – I know how can that be possible when I'm terrible as it is, but none the less at least a month and half break :( I shall explain more at the bottom – enjoy!**

**Possession**

Harry swung his legs out of the bed and made to get up and rush but the moment his feet slammed onto the cold floor, pain vibrated up his legs. He clenched his teeth, tilting his head back in an attempt to stop the pain. He breathed out slowly, his lips pursed as he gently put his weight on his unsteady limbs.

He hobbled up and headed to the bathroom, eyeing up the bloody footprints with worry – how could he have been so _stupid?_

He hurried as much as he good ignoring the steady throb building in the balls of his feet and cursing his own moronic, stupid and pathetic behaviour. Then he suddenly felt as though the energy had been sapped out of him and his lugs buckled as he lost all feeling of them. He slumped against the titled wall and slid a little down it, resting his right temple against the cold ceramics as he felt a cold sweat break out over his body at the horrid nauseous feeling.

_Calm down won't you? You panicking will be more of a giveaway than anything else!_ He felt the horcrux hiss and then the sickening feeling was gone…along with his worry. _I'll hold onto it all until you're ready to deal with it._

Harry got to his feet and took several deep breaths, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead to gather the sweat there. He wasn't sure whether he was angry or not…he didn't really feel anything at all, so he decided to just get ready to leave.

After using the bathroom he looked about the room for a second, for his clothes, and then he remembered the kind muggle woman had taken them. He didn't know exactly what to do – he wasn't entirely comfortable about going downstairs in only the pyjamas he was wearing.

A knock at the door was his saving grace and he hurried to go open it, only to find the woman from yesterday there with a pile of clothing folded in her arms.

She looked a little concerned when Harry opened the door – frowning worriedly upon seeing Harry's face so he figured h must have been looking a little harried. When he saw his clothes he felt all the tension leave his body and a smile automatically bloom on his face.

She looked at him bemusedly when he did so and she handed the clothes over saying, "Honestly! Did you think I'd run off with them?" She smoothed out the crease on his shirt before taking a pair of socks that were tucked under her arm and placing them on top of the pile. "I realised you didn't have a pair of socks – and I can't have you going away from here with bare feet now, can I?" She asked, she gripped his forearm with a gentle firmness and smiled at him and despite himself Harry found it oddly comforting. "I have some spare shoes from when my boys were growing up – they are all out of fashion now but I'm sure we'll be able to find you a pair that fits."

Harry suddenly found his mouth dry, and he was a little breathless, his chest tight with emotion and he licked his lips before managing a slightly tight, "Thank you -" He breathed out and smiled a little "-so much."

She just tightened her hold a little on his arm and gave him a little shake. "Now don't you worry – I will not have you sent away without provisions."

Harry found himself wishing to pry a little but restrained asking her _why was she helping him?_ She seemed to see it his eyes however because she answered anyway, "Why I do it?" She asked softly, "My son…" Her grip loosened and she dropped her hand down to her side, "…He was attacked – not here, he was in London somewhere – I don't know what happened to him exactly…" She fiddled with the zip on her fleece sleeveless jacket, "...but I know that he might have survived if someone had helped him. He wondered around London…for _hours_." She looked at him and her warm eyes were very fierce –a warm fierce light in them – definitely a mother's look and yet they were tired, exhausted and so weary looking. "It was the middle of winter and they all walked by – they left him…And he died of hypothermia." A few tears fell from her eyes and she bit her bottom lip, her eyes closing and she wiped the moisture from them. "He was blue when they found him." She whispered, she swallowed before meeting Harry's eyes again. "It changed our whole family – his brother struggled a lot – they were so close and his father…well it made our lives so hard for many years and I always thought – _I still think_- he might have survived if _someone_ had helped him!" She laughed a little bitterly, before brightening again, a shadow falling away from her features and she smiled at him, slapping her hand on the pile of laundry. "So, now I make sure that I help people who need it – I can't let someone suffer when I can offer my help. I wouldn't want another mother going through what I have."

Harry smiled and nodded, "You're a good woman." He whispered with genuine gratefulness despite how cliché the saying was. It was stupid but he really couldn't think of anything to say.

"Talking of mothers you should be getting back to yours. I bet she is worried sick! You should get in contact with her if you haven't already – there is a phone in your room, you know?"

Harry smiled sadly "She's dead." He said shortly, and her face crumpled for him briefly.

"Oh, darling, I'm sorry to hear that – do you mind me asking – was it recent?"

"No – it was a long time ago." Merlin, he really didn't want to be doing this…not now.

"I'm sorry to hear that – but I'm sure you hear that all the time – it doesn't make it better, does it?"

Harry shook his head, smiling a little forlornly.

"Ah, yes! What I came up for – the doctor will see you before his daily appointments – he will be here in about twenty minutes. I will cook breakfast for you – how long will take to get dressed?"

"Er.." Harry hesitated and then guessed, giving the estimate of "Ten minutes."

"Good – I'll have it ready by then – do you have any objections to a full English?"

Harry's stomach rumbled at the mention of a full English breakfast and she looked amused "I'm supposing not?" She said happily, and she chuckled, patting Harry's arm again and she went to walk down the corridor. She paused suddenly and turned around "If there is any mess in there, just leave it – I'll clean it all later."

Harry nodded wordlessly, feeling so unbelievably grateful that he couldn't express it. He closed the door, unable to stop smiling as he unfolded his clothes. He had had a shower last night and he didn't have the time to shower again. He ran a facecloth under the warm tap and lathered it up with soap – it was better than nothing.

_Do not get attached to a _muggle,_ Brother! No matter how much it has helped us._ The horcrux suddenly piped up.

Harry merely scoffed at it.

**~Possession**~

Harry was instantly hustled into an armchair by the unlit fireplace when he came downstairs, socks tucked in his pocket due to his bandaged feet not fitting in them. A steamy plate of food was placed in front of him with a cup of coffee "You'll want something to keep awake – I hope you don't mind the taste of coffee." She murmured, handing him a serviette. Harry wasn't that keen on the taste of the drink but it certainly had a kick to it and he felt himself perking up a little. The breakfast was gorgeous and Harry couldn't praise his host enough, still even though he knew he should be hurrying, he really didn't want too. There was a knocking at the large pub door, the rapping of knuckles on the thick word producing on a muffled sound - the doctor had arrived. He was short, portly fellow with a cheery disposition about him. He had red cheeks and was beginning to go bald with a large thatch of sandy blonde hair missing from the back of his skull. He enthusiastically shook Harry's hand and chattered away, accepting the offer for a cup of coffee from the owner and settling in one of the comfy armchairs in front of Harry.

When the woman placed the coffee down next to him on the table she said "I've Irish-ed that up for you." She gave him a large wink as she collected the empty dish from Harry's place.

"Oh, Mrs B! I'm on duty!" The doctor laughed, as he picked it up and took a sip. He made a sound of appreciation and let a very cheeky grin slip across his face.

Mrs B? So that's her name… Harry thought.

"I won't tell if you don't." Mr B said with a slight nudge to the doctor's side with her elbow.

The doctor laughed and turned back to Harry, moving his cup away from him so he could place his elbow on the table. "So, you're our guest who emerged from the woods." He looked a little amused, the ruddiness in his cheeks gaining an almost vividness as he tried to suppress his guffaws. "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh but you have caused quite the stir in the village – you should see all the little old women – they are having the time of their lives!" He slapped his leg as he laughed loudly, Harry sat back, his eye brows near his hair line as he watched the man rather shocked. "I'm sorry!" The man patted Harry's knee and took a deep breath, reaching for his coffee and taking a rather large gulp of it. "Now – where was I? My manners are slipping these days – I know everyone here already, _and their problems_, so I do tend to forget to introduce myself – I'm Dr Jones." He let out another laugh. "Stereotypical, boring name, isn't it? But it is one hundred percent true! One thing I didn't thank my parents for – I can tell you that now!" He reached down and pulled up his black briefcase that had battered corners and dull looking clasps. He set it down and began to open it. Harry wasn't sure what to make of this doctor but he seemed friendly enough…if a little overwhelming.

Dr Jones put on a pair of plastic disposable gloves. "Now then, lets takes a look at those feet, shall we?" He patted his knee and Harry found himself awkwardly putting his right foot on the man's lap, he could feel the heat in his cheeks and the red flush running up his neck. The doctor quickly removed the bandages on his foot and whistled impressed when he looked at Harry's sole. "You've done a good job cleaning these up – the wounds are all clear." He gently prodded one deep cut with a gloved finger and Harry gasped at the pain, sitting forward and grasping the arms of the chair. The doctor looked up at him apologetically "Sorry – some are deep but they do appear to be healing nicely. Let me see your other foot." He gently eased Harry's foot from his knee and quickly repeated the process with Harry's left foot. "You really have done a good job on this, Mr –Mr?" He asked. Harry's mind went completely blank for a moment – trying to think of a name that was completely unrelated to anyone he knew before he blurted out "Peters. Mr Peters." Harry winced internally at how obviously made up that was – it was too quick – blurted out; the doctor looked at him unconvinced but nodded and looked at him pityingly.

He obviously knew the more serious side of the situation then.

"Well then, what I am going to do is bandage these up again for you," He started to rewrap Harry's feet as he spoke with a clean bandage. "I am going to write a prescription for some antibiotics – just to be on the safe side seeing as some of them are very deep and hopefully you should be alright and on perfect feet in a couple of weeks." He smiled and tightened the bandage. "I'm making this tight so it is easier to wear your shoes." He commented. "I'll also prescribe some ointment – thank God for the NHS, hmm? The amount you use can accumulate and you've spent a ridiculous amount of money on medication before you know it."

After finishing the bandages on his left foot, the doctor quickly wrote a prescription and Mrs B quickly darted over, taking the slip of paper "I'll just get that for you, whilst you get your other foot done."

Harry smiled gratefully as she darted out the open pub door and the doctor continued with Harry's other foot. Once he was done Harry's feet were quite slim – the bandages would fit his shoes – and they were a lot tidier than when Harry had done it.

"Thank you so much." He said, wiggling his toes enthusiastically – he felt like he had reasonably normal feet again.

Just then the woman came back, clutching a little plastic bag, which she placed on the table next to Harry; she smiled when she saw Harry's bandaged feet "Good news? They look a lot better."

Harry found himself laughing a little. "My bandaging made them look a lot worse than they were."

She too started laughing warmly and she clutched his shoulder. It felt oddly maternal from her and Harry for a second wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself.

The doctor then spoke, drawing Harry out of his sudden contemplation.

"Now, Mr Peters – my daughter is leaving for London in a couple of hours, I know you've had a rough time lately and she has gladly offered to take you down with her. That is of course if you want to?"

Harry was so startled he didn't speak for a second before blurting "Really? She'd do that?"

Dr Jones smiled, "I don't know where you're from, Mr Peters, but here we look after one another. My daughter can be a little cold but if you need help she will give it to you. Shall I take that as a yes?" The man took of his gloves, walking over to the bin and dropping them in there and he smiled indulgently as he closed his briefcase.

Harry nodded, "Thank you, Sir." He said, as he began to put on the socks Mrs B had given him on his feet.

"Don't you worry, young man! She'll be leaving at nine – so that gives you by my approximation," He looked at his watch, "forty-five minutes to get ready. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr Peters." He held out his hand again and Harry shook it, the doctor quickly finished of the rest of his drink and with a quick kiss on the cheek for Mrs B and a cheeky "Don't tell my wife!" He waved as he left, closing the door behind him quietly.

"So, you're off then?" Mrs B asked from behind the bar, Harry frowned softly but nodded. Mrs B hummed, "That's brilliant – you can get home – wherever home is for you, London is it?"

"Yeah, my Godfather has a home there." He confirmed, ignoring the painful pang when he thought of Sirius. Harry had secretly bought 11 Grimmauld Place without anyone's knowledge – he could go there and floo back to Hogwarts. After all who would expect him to hide right under the proverbial nose of both Voldemort and the Order by being next door?

Mrs B came over with a wrapped package which she placed in front of him and a couple of bottles of water. "Just a little something to keep you going – London is about two and half hours away. There is a bacon sandwich in there. I wasn't sure what drink you would like – but you can't go wrong with water." She carefully placed them all in the bag in which his medicine was in before saying. "I've left the most un-fashion orientated shoes I have in your room, when you're ready go chose a pair."

Harry didn't really know what to do to express his gratefulness after this woman just kept giving and giving to him – it really renewed the faith in the kindness of strangers.

Harry went to his room, leaving the bag on the table. He found many shoes in his room – like Mrs B promised. They were mostly formal shoes but they went with his uniform to an extent and after trying on a few pairs, he finally found a pair that didn't look too expensive and fit him comfortably.

He quickly used the loo and then he grabbed a couple of sheets of paper from the little desk in his room. Picking up the pen he deliberated on what to write.

Eventually focussed on writing in parceltongue and managed to write a brief sentence.

_Do not harm anyone in this village or I'll destroy the locket. HJP_

Technically the locket no longer existed but none the less the threat should hold…hopefully.

He copied out the note on the other piece of paper and then folded them both and wrote _VOLDEMORT_ in English and block capitals on them both. He placed the pen down carefully and tucked one of the notes in his pocket – he wasn't sure why he had written two but he had a gut feeling and if there was one thing he trusted it was his gut – it hadn't lead him wrong before…well much. He shut the bedroom door behind him and took a deep breath – he was leaving and hopefully he would be safe by tonight, his stomach churned worriedly.

Before he went, he walked up to the bar, with the folded note clasped between his two fingers. Mrs B eyed it in confusion. He put it under a coaster on the bar "If anyone comes looking for me – give them this, promise me?" He asked.

She took the note of the bar – looking at the scruffily written 'Voldemort' on the front, she went to say it but Harry suddenly spoke. "Don't say his name!" He felt a little stupid for a minute for being so pathetic but in the long haul this woman wouldn't stand a chance against death eaters – even though she struck him as the type that would hide a shot gun under the bar. "I do not know if you're superstitious – but in this case please humour me. Just don't invite bad luck by saying it. If someone comes around here – give them that note – I hope it will stop any…_harm_ coming to you."

She looked touched and she made a point of sticking the note into her pocket and zipping it shut. "They do not frighten me," She told him, both brave and fierce, _but you _should, Harry thought, but then Mrs B's look softened "You have my word, Mr Peters." She said rather solemnly, though there was a kind and soft look in her eyes.

"Harry." He found himself saying. "My name is Harry." She beamed at the show of trust and flashed her white teeth at him in a heartfelt smile.

"I promise then, Harry." She said and they both paused in that second, and suddenly Harry knew without a doubt that he would see this woman again and he hoped it was in better circumstances, where he could relax without war hanging over him and pay her back for her kindness.

But for the moment he only said, "Thank you so much, Mrs B." He felt exhausted saying it, having said it more times than he could count and not enough for him to truly express how much it meant to him.

"Enough. There was nothing too it, and don't think I haven't seen that look in your eyes!" She scolded lightly, "You do not need to pay me back a penny! Seeing you safe is all the payment I need." She grinned almost roguishly at him and Harry could almost see a younger woman in her that second as she leaned forward a little and said "Seeing as you gave me yours – my first name is Kathy." She pushed herself backwards so she wasn't leaning on the bar and she turned around sharply, pulling a few bags of crisps and a few bags of peanuts out of the boxes lining the top shelf of the bar – she gestured to his bag of medicine and stuffed them in there. "For the road – it isn't much, but something is better than nothing."

"Thank you…Kathy" Harry found himself saying again.

"Honestly – you're sounding like a broken record now, Harry. You can repay me by getting home and being safe – and if you're ever in the area again, drop by and say hello." She picked up her tea towel and swung it over to rest on her shoulder so it was out of the way of her hands. "Go on now; you'll miss your lift." She nodded in fair well before saying. "Best of luck to you…and travel safe."

Harry nodded and said "You too." He left quickly and made a point of not looking back until he was out of the sight of the pub door. He felt really upset, even Mrs Weasley hadn't been as accommodating to him as Mrs B. The kindness of strangers indeed…

**~Possession**~

The air outside had a hint of cold in it – sharp enough to bite a little and Harry tugged his shirt further down his wrists whilst he waited for the doctor's daughter to arrive. He sat at down on one of the benches and looked at the little village and how quaint it was.

Though as he was sitting there silently he suddenly heard a scrapping sound – like a shoe on gravel, Harry's head turned in the direction he had hear it from. He jumped to his feet and looked around, moving slowly and carefully, he caught a glimpse of a black cloak disappear around a corner.

Despite his better judgment Harry followed it and almost ran straight into Snape, who was sneering at him and looked even more bloodless than usual.

"I see you've made yourself _very_ comfortable instead of making your way back to Hogwarts like anyone sane _would_." The man sneered, his wand pointed at Harry threateningly.

As though Harry's mouth couldn't stop itself, Harry hear himself saying tauntingly, "I see that _he_ has been a little angry lately – my, you're looking more sallow than normal, Snape."

Snape's dark eyes narrowed and his sneer became more pronounced as he tried to control his fury by hissing lowly."You idiot brat! Why are you still here?"

"I'm leaving in a second actually!" Harry hissed sceptically back before continuing in frustration. "Anyway, whose side are you on? One minute you're with V-_him_ then you're telling me to get away!" He regretted it a little when he saw Snape's wand spark a little.

"Be quiet, you ungrateful brat!" Snape spat, "I am the side I see fit – and you are not promoting your cause very well. Perhaps I should just hand you over to the Dark Lord and reap the rewards instead of covering for your ungrateful hide!"

Harry felt his anger flare a little more and found himself returning, "Oh, yes! Forgive me - I forgot how invaluable you are!"

"I present a more tangible value than you do, Mr Potter." The man sneered. "In fact, I would go as far to say that you value is actually diminishing day by day."

"Oh, for fucks sake, Snape! Come off it!" Harry snorted, "We both know that _he_ only keeps you around so you're called the ugly one."

Snape spluttered angrily for a second, and in that moment Harry snatched up the small ceramic flower pot on the nearby window ledge and smashed it over Snape's skull. The man dropped like a sack of shit, and apart from his foot twitching for a second he remained completely still. Snape's wand fell out of his relaxed fingers and started to roll – as the street was not flat. Harry swore and darted forward to try and snatch the wand of the cobble road. However, his fingers missed the slim piece of wood and the blasted thing rolled over a drain, falling into the large grate and the dirty water below with a slight _plop _sound and a small splash. Harry swore again but reasoned seeing as he didn't have a wand anyway, it was not a great loss – it wasn't even his wand.

Harry was then struck by inspiration and took the note from his pocket and tucked into Snape's hand. Seeing as the body was hidden from view Harry darted away and went back to his bench, waiting a little impatiently for his lift. He looked back and couldn't see Snape's prone form nor hear the profanities and curses sure to herald Snape's awakening. Fortunately he didn't have to wait long as he heard a car approaching. He looked at the large clock he could see on one of the village buildings and saw it was nine exactly.

An old car pulled up – probably not even worth a hundred quid, it had a couple of patches of rust on the side and it screeched as it braked. A young girl hopped out a second later, she was quite short too – but nothing like her father from what Harry could see, she was as skinny as a rake, and instead of her father's cheery manner she approached him with a cynical look on her face, though she was still rather radiant looking. She smiled, however, and held out her hand when she reached him. "Hi, I'm Penny – and I'm presuming you're our mystery guest who turned up in the middle of the night?"

Harry flushed a little and nodded slightly bashfully. It seemed she had her father's brashness as well.

"Oh, don't be like that!" She laughed, loud and brashly, her blonde ponytail swinging with her movement, "Honestly! You're the most interesting thing to happen for a _long_ time." She gestured with her head for him to follow her to the car. "You have any more stuff other than the bag?" She asked looking around Harry's feet.

"No." He said, shooting a look back at where he knew Snape lay and turning back to Penny with a strained smile.

"Fair 'nough." She hummed and she opened her car door, Harry quickly followed to do the same on the other side. As she was putting on her seat belt she continued. "Yeah – seriously, you have been giving all the old biddies stuff to talk about." She looked around before pulling away. "Last week the most interesting thing they had to talk about was how one of the local cats had decapitated a whole garden of its flower heads – oh the scandle!" She chuckled shaking her head and waving cheerily to her father who was walking up to one of the little cottages surrounded by a prize winning garden. "_Then_," She shot a quick look at him, "Then you come along – late at night, no shoes and looking like death apparently – they will thrive on this for probably six months!"

Despite himself Harry felt a tendril of amusement. At least this ride wouldn't be boring, he thought.

**~Possession**~

Harry stared out the car window tiredly, feeling his eyelids drooping. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes trying to sooth the prevalent itch that was constantly there. After an hour of meaningless chatter on both their parts, Penny and Harry had gotten bored of talking, lapsing into silence as they travelled.

He put his glasses back on only to find that the world blurred slightly with them on, he frowned before taking them off again – the world was still blurry. He felt a slight bit of panic stirring in his gut.

_I'm trying to correct your eyes Brother – calm down._ The Horcrux whispered to him in both an exasperated and slightly fond tone.

He relaxed marginally, slumping slighting in his seat before asking _Why? Not that I'm ungrateful but still…_

He felt a twitch like movement in his mind – like a vibrating and then he realised the Horcrux was laughing at him.

_Because, dear Brother, if you lose your glasses we cannot have you wondering around blindly now – can we? And leaving these somewhere is a good red herring._

Harry gave a hum of agreement but did not make further comment – he quickly darted a glance at the muggle driving – he was weird enough to her without bloody humming to himself and having a conversation about leaving his glasses somewhere to suggest his own demise. She would leave him on the road side for sure!

_I have also healed some of the deepest cuts in your feet – still take those dirty muggle medicines but the worst have been healed._

Harry smiled a little and gave an almost indivisible nod of thanks.

He put on his blurry glasses for appearances sake and watched the greenery speed by apathetically.

It was a short while after this, after Harry had seen all kinds of trees blurred into endless green and brown, he felt Penny brake sharply. He slumped forward with the motion of the car for a second.

"What the hell is this?" He heard Penny ask angrily as she braked sharply again, causing Harry to fly forward in his seat again. Harry looked, squinting at a figure in the middle of the country road – just standing there – back turned to the car.

Penny looked at Harry, shrugging with her hands before slamming them back on the wheel – her pony tail whipping about with vigour with her sharp head movements. She pursed her lips determinedly for a few seconds before using the car horn several times. Then called the figure several unflattering names – punctuated each time with a blare of the car horn.

Meanwhile Harry watched the figure with worry – he could see they were wearing all black – with a hood, he placed his hands on the dashboard and leant forward, letting his glasses slip down his nose as to give his improving eyes a better chance to identify the figure.

"Well-" Penny gave a slight harrumph, "Fuck this!" She altered her grip on the steering wheel and started to drive onwards but very slowly.

Suddenly the figure whipped around, a flash of red lips and a raised wand in a pale gnarled hand. The mouth moved suddenly and from the tip of the pale wood a bright orange light sprung from it.

It struck just in front of the car.

"Fuck!" Penny shouted as she turned the wheel sharply, eyes wide, panicked, mouth gaping as she tried frantically move the car from the large fire.

There was another burst of flame, causing the car to rock from the sweltering heat. The paint bubbled on the bonnet and Harry could almost feel his skin flare an angry red from the heat. There was another flare of light and the car skidded sideways on the road causing Penny to scream in fear. "For fucks sake! Get out of the fucking car!" She screeched, panicking fingers trying to unhook her belt and fumbling ineffectively at the thin belt across her chest. Harry went to reach to help her with his calmer and steady fingers. Though there was a sudden silence as though everything had stopped for a split section.

Harry wasn't sure how it happened but then there was a feeling of weightlessness for a brief second. It took Harry a few seconds to realise that the car had been sent flying in the air. Harry' stomach flipped in that nauseating way as they were thrown up and Penny screamed in terror, her hands now clutching the belt for dear life, causing the belt to crease and become thin. The skin around her knuckles taunt and white as her grip got tighter when the car started to return down to earth. Harry was clutching the seat and he held in breath – making a sound seemed impossible at the moment.

Then the car started to roll.

It spun dizzyingly and Harry could hear screaming – both Penny and him. Harry swung his arms up, bracing himself against the top on the car so he didn't hit his head.

The car came down with a sickening crunch, landing upside down, metal crunching loudly and paint flaking. The world rolled around for a few minutes as the car went down a grassy slope and rolling into a crop field, knocking down crop with a cracking sound as individual plants where broken.

Green,

Black,

Blue,

Yellow,

Spinning,

White,

Black,

With one last roll the car landed upside down, rocking worriedly a couple of times, it finally settled.

The battered metal framework groaned angrily and Harry could actually hear the wheels spinning madly in the air. He thought he must have black out for a second, though his arms had stayed strong as stone pillars and had kept him from falling on his head, as there was nothing and then sound and colour suddenly came back as though being hit with a wall.

He groaned loudly.

His head lolled and it ached from where he had hit it a couple of times, his arms that supported his body were shaking and he used his left hand to push the cracked glass out of the window. He looked at his left hand and saw the funny angle his thumb was at – it looked broken. He managed to unhook his belt before gingerly lowering himself onto his shoulders and ignoring how painful it was for his neck and it increased the ringing in his head.

He slowly got his legs through the empty window and swung his body out completely – hissing loudly at the stinging sensation as mini shards of glass cut into his back. He briefly touched the car to push himself to his feet but he gasped at the burning, white hot heat, he felt in the tips of his fingers from the scalding metal. He touched his thumb which was very numb, but the moment his fingers made contact with the searing hot skin a surge of pain shot through his arm.

Definitely broken.

He blew on his fingers and waved them in the air as though it might cool them, ignoring how the ground seemed to be moving from under him. He briefly touched the side of his face, it was wet and sticky with a little blood, and there was a giant lump that covered his temple and cheek – he bet it would turn purple later on. None the less, he was surprised how little damage he had acquired from the crash – he wondered- _Penny!_

He ran around the upturned car – running raggedly and in a large and wavering circle until he got to Penny's door, he fell to his knees and peered into the shattered window.

And wished he hadn't.

She was covered in blood – she was completely red.

Harry looked at the embedded krooklok in Penny's stomach, half of the shredded metal emerging through Penny's spine. One of her eyes was completely gone, just a blood hole left were her right eye used to be. Her left big brown eye rolled around wildly. She made a choking sound of pain and blood flooded out from her mouth in a giant choking rush, staining her lips and chin, the alabaster flesh looking like silky linen stained with red.

She suddenly caught sight of Harry and she looked at him questionably – as though she wasn't sure what was happening. Harry found himself staring, frozen and shocked until a cry came from Penny, her eyelids closing hiding her brown iris and the bloody remains of the other, the blood still pouring out of every orifice on her face. Her lips pulled back, baring her teeth and the remains of her beautiful face crumpled in agony and the rejection of tears, they left watery red stains on the left cheek, revealing a horrid bruise forming under the layer of make-up.

Harry grabbed the small hand that wasn't crushed and held it tightly, unable to think of anything to say that wasn't patronising bullshit, and she opened her eye and smiled shakily and gratefully to him. Harry looked at the pool of blood that was seeping out from where the krooklok was embedded and winced.

Then Penny's hand gave a spasm around his – clutching it with fervour for a moment before its hold in the same second started to falter and her brown eye that had been filled with life and been happy started to lose the shine of the living and gain the glassy effect of death.

"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus – Jesus – FuckFuckFUCKFUCK!" Harry cried out dropping her hand and cupping her blood sodden face. "Pen-Penny – Look at me! PENNY!" He yelled, as her eye completely missed him, swivelling around the green field, the red fire and the blue sky – then him.

"Good girl! Penny – keep looking at me."

She focused on his mouth – watching his lips forming the words but he didn't think she was hearing what he was saying.

Words finally started flowing then - absolute nonsense but Penny didn't seem to hear him , at least Harry didn't think she did, but a flicker of a smile pulled at her mouth for the briefest moment before her eye closed and she stopped breathing. In the roaring of the fire, the smoke and the harsh wind it was incredible how Harry could see and hear only Penny and the last exhale she made almost sounded as though she sighed for her last breath.

Harry let his hands slide of her face and he looked at the blood staining his hands – his fault, the blood he had spilt by being with her in the car.

How old had she been? Twenty-four, Harry guessed – probably younger and her whole life was cut short because he had accepted a lift.

He hated himself in that second – maybe because of the fact that he didn't comfort her until it was too late, didn't try to help or maybe it was because he knew he had to leave her body behind in a field – he was abandoning her and it ate at him (_like the creatures would her_) to think he had to do that.

He pushed himself to his feet, apathy and numbness making his movements sluggish and tired, he was just about to leave when he heard several cracks of apparition – somewhere in the crop.

It was lucky that the crop was very tall, as it just hid him from view – but it also hid whoever was in the crop with him. He scowled in anger and worry realising that he was trapped and surrounded in the crop with wizards – and he didn't know whether they were the Order or Death Eaters.

In either case he still didn't have his fucking wand.

**A/N – Review please!**

**Also, if you're looking for some more swearing and hate from Tom Riddle or even and AU!Harry check out my one-shot ****Still A Mudblood ****you may not like it but I am a shamelessly using this fic to promote my other works ;) **

**Right as I said at the top, it is exam season and so this is the last definite chapter before my exams – but it is entirely possible that inspiration will strike me again – it tends to do that during times that it shouldn't, so please do not get your hopes up but it**_** could**_** happen. **

**Please let me know what you would like to happen – who is in the crop with Harry, will he get away? Let me know – it probably will not influence what happens but I would love to know your opinion.**

**So, my exams finish at the end of June – so I am hoping that I will have something done by mid-July – as I will have nothing else to do but write then. **

**However – this has been my longest chapter for this fic so…hopefully it will keep you going for a while :)**

**Thanks everyone and review please :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**IMPORTANT A/N – Right, I have terrible writer's block at the moment and I hope that isn't obvious in my writing. I have an important notice at the bottom about it. Other than that, as usual, no beta but double checked (please forgive any mistakes I haven't caught), swearing and a bit of torture in this one (how graphic it is depends on your sensibilities.) Enjoy! **

**Possession**

When Severus awoke all he could feel was the uneven cobbles pressing into the side of his jaw and his cheekbone, a warm sticky trail of saliva down his lips and there was the feel of blistering heat from where Potter had struck him with the bloody flower pot. The ceramic fragments were littered around his head like a bizarre crown or like a proclamation of saint hood with a crockery halo. Severus could feel the heavy soil on his back and under the collar of his robes, his sweat making the soil cling to the skin on his neck. The soil was also probably in his wound, the bacteria probably festering already, he thought with disgust. There was also an odd weight on Severus's head, light but heavy enough to register over the thumping pain from the cut he was now sporting.

Severus had the gut feeling that the brilliant pink flower that had been in the pot was now resting right on top of his head.

_Oh joy._

The sunlight streaming into the alley over the crooked roofs was much too bright and Snape wanted to groan but the thumping in his head made him stop – more noise wouldn't be good, _no_, not at all.

He clenched his hands as he squinted his eyes shut, pushing himself of the ground into a sitting position. He heard and felt the accursed flower slide from his head depositing more soil in his hair and hit the ground with a rustle of petals and leaves, he glared at the moving pink flower with bleary eyes, eyeing the smashed soil and exposed roots with petty satisfaction as though that would teach the plant to not settle on him again. Hearing a crunching sound and feeling paper crinkle in his palm Snape looked down squinting blearily at a scruffily written note.

After bringing the note closer to his face Snape finally managed to deceiver the 'Voldemort' in Potter's unruly handwriting and his headache increased triple fold.

_Bloody brat!_

He pressed his other hand to the sticky and aching cut, he flinched the moment his fingers made contact with the raw wound, hissing in pain. Snape looked at his red and black fingers in disgust.

He went to reach for his wand but remembered that he had it out when Potter had been there. He looked at the ground through bleary eyes before noticing the ground slopping …towards a massive drain. He found himself hoping it was in the drain rather than Potter's grubby little hands.

Rolling his eyes would be too much effort and pain, and the thought of putting his head in his hands was a concept that made Snape want to vomit.

Severus managed to steady himself on his knees and hands as he crawled over the ground that he swore was moving under him towards the large drain.

He glanced down into the murky waters in an attempt to hopefully see if his wand had be caught on anything in the drain but the smell of sewage nearly completed the process of making Snape vomit but Severus swallowed convulsively and steadied himself before slowly pushing himself of the cold ground to his unsteady feet.

Severus finally managed to maintain his balance by leaning heavily on the rough wall next to the window ledge Potter had snatched the pot from. The window ledge looked odd without the plant upon it now, amongst the many others that were strategically placed there. There was a large green patch of very old tile exposed in a large circle where it had been sitting. Closing his eyes, Severus took a calming breath before he pushed away from the wall and tried to walk away. His legs staggered, carrying him to the other side of the alley before his fingers snatched onto the craggy wall as his legs tried to fold beneath him.

Apparation was already out of the window, as was a portkey but how the hell was he supposed to walk back to the Dark Lord like this?

Gritting his teeth, Severus pushed himself up again, ignoring the spinning vision the white heat of the pain before he used the wall as a crutch to walk.

It was going to be a long journey.

**~ Possession~**

The note was blood stained and crumpled when it finally reached Voldemort. Snape had his other hand pressed up against his bleeding face, the thick blackening blood sticking his fingers to the seeping wound. He swayed a little on his knees as he waited for his Master's reaction.

The Dark Lord's hand slowly unclenched but Snape flinched anyway, his head ringing and vision spinning horridly.

"Severus…" The man hissed, slowly and with barely there control, "Get me the Mudblood." He ordered, the note turning to ash in his pale hand, the tiny particles slipping through his long fingers onto his desk and robes.

Snape wanted to groan – loudly at that – but he withheld it and pushed himself to his feet, the desire to pass out growing stronger with each second. He would get Granger and then have his potions and possibly drink himself into a stupor and hope Potter was dead by the time he was sober.

After completing the almost impossible journey to the dungeon and back to the Dark Lord, Snape was gladly dismissed.

**~ Possession~**

Voldemort watched the girl coldly; red eyes dull and watchful as he let her fear build. He could see her limbs trembling and the fresh scar he had given her was partially hidden by her arms as she tried to cover her nakedness.

"So, _Mudblood_, was helping Harry escape your objective when you ran away today?" He began as he clasped his hands on his desk. He saw her flinch at the question. "Or were you at the Blood-traitor trying to save your own skin? I imagine Weasely is quite keen on keeping his second one. "

He heard her breathless sob and he stood from his seat, walking around the desk and pausing a few paces away from her. Granger's shoulders hunched at his closer proximity.

There was a silent moment whilst Voldemort reigned in his anger so he didn't kill the mudblood.

Then he darted forward – almost touching her cheek with his face and he let out a low guttural hiss, relishing in the fear that flared in her mud coloured eyes. She threw herself back, her body landing heavily on the wooden floor with a loud slap of flesh colliding. Her ratty hair fell over her face, her eyes obscured from his view but her open mouth was visible and was taking in a lot of air in her panic.

He smiled slowly, "You must understand, of course, that you must be punished for the _inconvenience_ you have caused me." Voldemort withdrew his wand at an agonising pace, the pale yew gleaming in the candle light. It rolled between his long pale fingers sedately as he wandlessly pulled her slowly towards him, her nails scratching ineffectively at floor as she was pulled by her ankles closer and closer to the demon in black. She was stopped when she was close enough to touch the Dark Lord's robes with her eyelashes. Her breath made them flutter slightly as she froze in the spot, her back locking rigidly in place

He crouched in front of her, cruel fingers reaching out to her pale face.

"From what I have heard, Mudblood, you love to flap your gums." Voldemort smiled softly, as he ran a finger across her top lip. "But we have already seen that – haven't we? Poor Harry, having to suffer for you." His nail pressed against the corner of her mouth. "Do you not feel bad for that, Mudblood?"

His right hand reached up to the desk, his fingers wrapping around a letter opener and he brought it towards the girl with slow precision in a teasing manner. "I believe muggle punishment is fit for muggle spawn, don't you?" He asked quietly, as though sharing a secret with the girl who was not even a hairs breadth away. Granger looked at the blade, the candle light dazzling off it, highlighting the sharpness off the intricate silver. Her breath was shaky and she was frozen to the spot, unable to cry out and say no, unable to beg, just completely frozen to the spot.

Voldemort smiled indulgently, madness flickering in his horrid eyes and pulling at his mouth.

With a slow precision he cut into her cheek, pulling the blade from the corner of her mouth and letting it splice the thick layers of cheek muscle to reveal blood stained teeth. He kept cleaving at the flesh until the new extended edge of her mouth reached her ear lobe. The blood flooded from the wound on her face and Voldemort tutted as the blood collected on his fingers.

He looked at the blood disdainfully, flicking his hand to remove the blood from it. "You're getting blood all over my floor, girl." He muttered, glaring at the girl who was still frozen. She hadn't made a sound through the cutting and her gaping mouth flapped a little as she tried to. Shock, it seemed was stopping the pain, or stopping her vocalising it.

Voldemort eyed the blood collecting on the rug and he made a sound of deep irritation. "Silly girl, I got that rug from an Egyptian wizard – it was very expensive."

He flicked his wand at the rug, the blood slowly disappearing from it before he turned his attention to the heavily bleeding cut on the girl's face.

Voldemort smiled as an idea occurred to him.

The smell of soldering flesh soon filled the room as the ragged wound burned black and shrivelled together, becoming tight and blistered along Hermione's face.

She did scream then, a ragged yowl causing the cauterising wound to stretch, flake, break and bleed. Her hands went to her face to try and grasp at it, as though she could stop the pain through her hands alone.

Voldemort laughed, and reached out holding her hands away from her face. Her blunt nails scratched at his skin a little, but Voldemort knew that during torture both parties could suffer wounds.

"There – shhh, Mudblood – you understand the necessity of this punishment – don't you?" The Dark Lord waited until she nodded, making a little sound of pain and fear as she did so, but to a tortured and scared mind agreeing and submissiveness might end the pain, might induce mercy…

Not with Voldemort however… but that was the joy of it, the gentleness between the pain made the victim more compliant and eager to please. Voldemort's brand of torture was so much more effective than his followers. Kindness – as Dumbledore would know – is a clever method to make others want to appease you.

"Let us hope that Harry might be lured back home with a letter." Voldemort said, his fingers trailing gracefully across Granger's face and her damaged hands grasped his wrists, pleading noises emerging from her throat as she shook her head, tears started to fall and her eyes rolled around like a panicked horse's. His fingers paused at the corners of her eyes. "Do not worry – none of this damage is permanent – the pain is the lesson you must learn." He commented gently as he pried open her muddy brown eye, "Keep this open for me now, won't you?"

A retched sound caught in her throat but she held her eyes open as she trembled with fear. She let out a squeal of terror as she saw the knife approaching and her legs bucked out in panic and kicked out in horror until Voldemort put his hand on her leg gently, bringing it down to the wooden flooring. "Good girl. Shh." He said it smoothly and calmly and through her sobbing her legs settled into tremors and her eyes squinted shut and hot tears trailed over her odious burn.

"Ah –ah!" The Dark Lord whispered, as he pried open her eye. "Open."

It was with slow movements that he brought the knife to her eye, slow, delicate movements that helped him cut into the soft ball of fluid. Hermione screamed and screamed but held her eyes open as she was told, sitting rigidly as the whole of her face slowly became drenched in blood and fluid.

The aqueous humour ran down the length of Voldemort's thumb as he gently removed the top half of the eye, he plucked the lens from the remaining half, ignoring the screams and disturbing the vitreous humour as he removed the contents of the eye, he rolled the lens in the palm of his hand in a bizarre fascination before he dropped it onto the floor and let it roll away.

"Next one now, come on girl." He made Granger turn her face to him, exposing the remaining eye – surrounded by gloopy eyelashes; stuck together with tears. "It'll soon be over."

He soon finished with the other eye and after claiming the delicate flesh that was her eyelids, he approached his desk and fixated them to the parchment. He looked at the little ink well in his desk before approaching the frozen girl, placing it just under her chin he collected the dripping blood into the metal holder before bringing it back to his desk. He took his quill penned a note to his horcux, it was time for it to come home.

He handed his blood note to the owl he had sitting nearby, a mean looking thing, and let it out the window with firm instructions. Voldemort turned to the girl, who was still sitting still, blind and making incoherent sounds.

"Now, mudblood, should we call the blood-traitor in?" He asked her.

**~ Possession~**

Harry was crouched in the field, the crop covering him and he placed his hands on the rough ground. He ignored his ringing ears and spinning vision as he tried to listen to any indicator of people moving closer.

All he could hear was the rustling of crops in the wind and his shallow breathing that whistled through his nose. Suddenly his upper lip felt a little wet, a warm kind of wet that made Harry think his nose was running. With a slight cringe knowing that he didn't have a tissue, his bunched up his sleeve wrapping it around his fingers and pinned the cloth between his thumb and forefinger before he ran it under his nose. A trail of blood coated his sleeve and Harry looked at it in surprise, with gentle fingers he prodded the bridge of his nose and nearly saw white when he pressed down on a large bump near his right eye.

No wonder his glasses weren't settling right…

Harry pinched his nose and remembered to keep his head down, he still carefully listened for more sound as his eyes darted around the land he could see from his position .

Still nothing apart from the breeze.

Suddenly there was a loud crack from above him. Harry startled so much that he let go of his nose and looked up in shock.

Nothing apart from the bright blue sky and a few clouds. He pushed himself to his feet shakily, and tried to see over the crops.

He could hear a distant shout from behind him and turned to see three men on a hill, and then he strained to hear what they were saying and he heard one of the men yell. "PULL!" Before another released a clay pigeon and the first man fired his rifle with an almighty bang. Then Harry heard the sharp Apparition like _crack!_ as the bullet shattered the clay. Harry ducked, covering his head with splayed hands in case the damn thing hit him on its way down.

Surely, they had noticed the bloody car crash?! Harry looked at the smoking wreck and Penny's mangled body and the plume of fire that was sending up a gigantic signal up into the sky.

How could they not see it?

…Then as if in a slow-motion replay, Harry remembered the cloaked figure, sneering red lips and a horrible malformed hand. They could have placed a spell over it – otherwise there was no way that those men would be oblivious when they were so close. Harry's eyes darted up the hill where the road was and he could just see the figure in black meandering through the trees and heading towards the car.

… Towards Harry.

Shit.

_Run, Brother run! _The horcrux suddenly seemed to panic, and it whispered urgently _Run! But don't disrupt the crops too much – it will be a clear signal to them where we are! Run!_ Harry felt worried that the normally calm horcrux was panicking and began to slowly move further into the yellow crop. He could feel more blood trickle onto his upper lip and onto the ground. His breath was shaky and he felt really scared all of a sudden. Voldemort might torture him but he wouldn't kill him but whoever this was might.

More blood trickled out his nose and Harry wiped it with his bare hand. Suddenly, only just realising he ran his hand over the bottom half of his face again, _Christ,_ he thought, _I need a shave._ Through his rush in the morning he had neglected to look in the mirror at the growing stubble.

_Brother Run!_ The horcrux cried out and Harry could feel the warble of fear tremble through his mind. Harry continued onwards in a crouch and he scurried backwards eyes on the figure coming towards him.

Harry stopped when the figure did and Harry found himself holding his breath, even going so far to put his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

The figure suddenly darted forward, approaching the crop a lot faster than before.

_Fuck it, _Harry thought as he jumped up and ran with abandon through the crop, batting them out of the way with his hands.

His breath came out of his mouth with sharp and harsh gasps, spraying the freefalling blood from his nose across the stems of the plants and the rough stirred up soil.

_Run!_ The horcrux said again, clearly distressed. _Brother, do you know how to apparate?!_

Harry managed to gasp out, "Not – without – my – wand!"

He could feel the anger and fear increase before a memory came to Harry from when he was young and running from Dudley. He had apparated from the ground to the roof of his school. _Yes! Brother, remember that feeling! Remember that panic!_ The horcrux urged, delight surging from it.

Harry was bloody panicking now – normally the horcrux was calm and dignified, so to feel fear from it made Harry's heart skip a beat. This was very bad.

He continued running, as fast as he could with his injuries. He could feel that same kind of panic build within in him when he was being chased by Dudley.

All he had to do was concentrate on being somewhere safe

Harry looked back as he ran to see the figure increasing his speed as well

There was a surge of magic and blistering heat as the mysterious figure flew at him across the field.

Just as Harry felt the tell-tale tightness of apparation a heavy weight crashed into his back and was taken along with him.

Harry fell loudly to the floor of 12 Grimmauld Place – not where he had wanted but better than taking this person to a real safe house. The person was on top of Harry, a dead weight that suddenly lifted and sprung to life. Their malformed hand, black and rotten, grabbed Harry's shoulder turning him over.

Harry was ready to lash out with a coiled fist but nearly choked on his own tongue when he saw a very familiar face.

**A/N – Review please?  
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**I feel so deliciously evil with that cliffy – but I do believe I have given you enough clues for you to guess who it is – **_**everything**_** will be explained next chapter!**

**In response to a review by somethingsable, I think we can most definitely rule out the slash - the characters have taken me way of track for that to be possible now :(  
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**As I said at the top, I have terrible writers block and although I have the next chapter of this planned I do not have much else :S**

**However, I do have a new fic on the go which I am able to work with through my writer's block so if you want to check it out whilst you wait for my new chapter then please do – I would love your support.**

_**For Victory**_

_**AU. Voldemort returns during Harry's first year. Dark!fic 'The stone fell from Harry's fingers and Quirrell bent down with his pale hand, his fingers snatching up the red stone.' Harry might only see the irony years later that in trying to defeat Voldemort, he turned to the Dark Lord's younger counterpart for help...but everything he does, he does for victory.**_

_**Characters - Harry P. & Tom R. Jr.**_

_****_w w w. fanfiction s/ 8372174/1/ For_Victory _**(take out the spaces)**_

**Thank you and please review ;) **


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Warnings- kinda…angsty….oh and Harry being very anti-Voldemort ;) Oh and of course, mistakes a-hoy! But I did this for you guys in a matter of hours, late at night-early morning; it is literally the written version of a pie hot out of the oven!**

**A/N – Sorry for the LONG LONG wait – I hope that this might make up for it a little teensy bit :(**

**Possession **

'Dumbledore!' Harry gasped, flopping to the floor in exhaustion and relief as his vision spun wildly. "Urgh…" He groaned miserably, placing his bruised hand to his face at the agony. "How…how do I know it's actually you?" He finally managed, even though the rushing sound in his ears made him want to vomit and sleep instead of question. He felt so rough he didn't think he would have minded sleeping _next _to the vomit.

He wanted to trust him so badly, he was so sick of struggling on his own!

Dumbledore pushed himself off Harry, slowly and painfully getting to his feet, "It was I who told you that you harbour a piece of Lord Voldemort's soul, Harry, on the 10th of March, last year, in my office." The man used his trembling, blackened hand to wipe the beaded sweat of his forehead tiredly. "I also believe Fawkes spent the entire time trying to lure you into paying attention to him."

Harry squinted through his bleary eyes and broken glasses at the man before nodding, "Okay," Harry rasped, "I believe you." Harry let his eyes shut, resting on the cold dirty floor of the old HQ of Dumbeldore's rebel group. It felt so deliciously cold and Harry half found himself turning into it, pressing his sweaty and bloody face onto the grimy tiles.

He took a few moments to collect himself and relax against the blessed relief of something cool "Why-" Harry took another ragged breath, pressing a hand against his chest and wondering if he had bruised his ribs or something. "Why did you kill the muggle girl?" He rasped, his heavy breathing disrupting the dust. "Penny, her name was Penny…why did you do that?" Harry didn't feel grieved about her death so much as he didn't know her well _but_ she had told him things, useless surplus information about herself, such as she was at university, she wanted to make her Dad proud... the things that where rather boring and run of the mill but it made her so human. Harry couldn't let her death lie; she had such a life to live and now _Dumbledore_ of all people had been the reason the girl had died.

There was a pained sigh, world weary and exhausted, "I am afraid, Harry, I have meddled in something and the consequences have caused a young person's life to end."

Harry opened his eyes, heaving his head up to look at Dumbledore, and although he was not crying, his wrinkled face looked full of anguish. His black hand was pushed against his mouth, his thumb resting on his left whiskered cheek, and his rotten fingers spread across the rest of his face. He turned his dull blue eyes down towards Harry, wordlessly shaking his head in horror.

Harry sat up carefully, his whole body protesting the movement especially his broken thumb which turned his vision white for a moment. Harry swallowed hoping his stomach wouldn't revolt against him before looking more fully at Dumbledore. All Harry could picture was Penny's bloody face with that one large eye rolling around in delirious panic. Harry moved his legs underneath himself and pushed up, staggering to his feet with wobbly colt legs. Dumbledore watched him carefully, like one does a dangerous animal, "What did you do?" Harry asked, his glasses making Dumbledore blur, he snatched them off his face irritably, though the man remained blurred at least the pressure on his broken nose lessened slightly.

He saw Dumbledore's blurred form slump a little and almost felt the sigh that escaped the man. "Maybe, Harry, this would be better discussed over some tea…and perhaps in a safer and more inviting dwelling."

This could be dangerous, Harry thought, as he grasped the proffered arm for apparation. Although he was sure it was Dumbledore, as he was squeezed through the black, compressing magic he couldn't help but fear when he opened his eyes he would be back in Voldemort's room, the man behind his desk with steepled fingers, twitching to use his wand and curse the life out of Harry.

Harry needn't have worried as when he could breathe again and he pried his eyes open he was in a warm circular room, a fire lazily consuming wooden logs and whirling trinkets surrounding them. _Hogwarts._ Harry let go off Dumbledore's hand and looked around the room, his chest tight and constricted with emotion. He smiled a little watery as he finally felt the weight and pressure fall off his shoulders. He didn't know if he should feel light with relief or heavy with exhaustion and _god! It was all so confusing and tiring and….he'd never felt so happy in his life!_

To his embarrassment, he had never felt so safe in his life, even with rain battering down on the window and the howling Scottish winds that shook the window panes, it made Harry sigh with relief.

His shoulders which had been stiff and tense for ages suddenly dropped, his form slouching as he let out a laugh sob, cupping his face to cover his broken face and tears.

He staggered over to the chairs near the fire, his legs buckling and he fell into the soft comfort of the material, bending his head down to his knees, his face held in a tight grip with his elbows braced on his legs.

He could hear his loud and pained breathing as he chants in his mind _do not cry, do not cry_ but he couldn't seem to get enough air into his lungs.

_Brother, brother! Clam down, the old man will suspect us! He will find and separate us!_

Harry snarled at the horcrux in sudden anger, _I'm not your brother! I want you gone! I want my head back to myself – if you didn't exist I wouldn't have half these bloody problems!_

He felt how affronted the horcrux was and snarled at it – like it had a right to be offended! He just want some piece after all that had happened!

The gentle touch of Dumbledore's hesitant hand on his back nearly shattered Harry's fragile and barely-there composure. Harry felt relieved but there was also so much despair because he knew that poor Penny was rotting in a field, burning in a car, the blood blackening and her flesh hardening and ripping under the blistering heat of the flames. He could see that one eye rolling and that mouth wordless and scared, shocked and not understanding what had happened, why she was so cold on the inside and so warm on the outside. Harry's eyes closed, as though he could hold the tears in with his eyelids, but they burned trails down his dirty face. Would Hermione and Ron be like that? Their blood so warm pouring out of them and their bodies cooling as it did so? How many more people would die for this war? He thought he hated Voldemort before but now that dislike felt overshadowed an d pale compared to the detest and hatred he felt for him now. The kindness of strangers and innocent witches and wizards would all burn in a world of fire….and Harry could see himself left behind, chained to Voldemort for eternity as a vessel for his soul…a godforsaken host in a world of fire and death. The horcruxes would ensure the world would never be free of his bloody taint and then… it just clicked…information and facts finally connecting in a way that made _so_ much sense.

Every last piece of Voldemort would have to be destroyed, burned from the world…every horcrux….every shadow he had left would have to be chased away…including Harry.

When would he die for this war? For he was sure of it now, he was a dead man walking and not because Voldemort wanted him dead but because he was surer than ever that being a horcrux could only end in one way. He thought of Dumbledore's black hand and the blackness that ran like rot through Harry's own soul.

How tainted would be before he died to save other people? He felt a quiver in the back of his mind, the foreign soul shuddering at the thought of it's own demise. _That's right, _Harry hissed at it, _I'll die to be rid of you – and Voldemort! There is no want or need for a parasite like you!_

Harry found himself realising that he was so unbearably tired, tired of the fear which niggled at the back of his mind all the time, the dark magic which pulled at his fingers, made him itch and writhe. Voldemort's dirty cruel voice whispering spells and insults in his mind and he wanted it all to _stop_. _How do you continue to live in a world so twisted? How twisted and ruined would Harry become by Voldemort's influence by the end of this war?_

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, the blurred man who was his mentor and his executioner; he could see the man's mouth pull down in pity for a second. Harry both wanted to grab handfuls of the man's robes and pull him closer begging him to not let him die alone, he was too scared off the dead's' judgment and he also wanted to snarl and curse the bloody man, beating with his hands to the floor and screaming at him for letting him grow into an adult, who could have had a chance at life. Why didn't he snuff out the light while he had a chance?! Why did he let Harry become Harry if he was only ever going to die anyway?! Harry laughed wetly at seeing the man's expression, did Dumbledore hate himself as much as Harry did? He swallowed again, heavily, a damned reflex "When?" He asked, wiping his tears with the heel of his palm as so not to aggravate his broken thumb.

"What do you mean, Harry?" The bastard gave a good show of being confused.

Harry snarled, like wild injured beast, "When am I going to bloody die?!"

Dumbledore made a grave noise somewhere between pleased and surprised but his words contradicted the noise. "Harry, we said we were trying to find an alternative way to get rid of the soul."

Harry sneered as he laughed, high pitch and cold, like the Dark Lord himself and he felt twisted and oddly violated, "There is no other way!" Harry pushed his hair out of his face, "What are you going to use, old man? Potions or spells? None of those affect the soul! Potions are physical and magic alone won't rid me of this disease!" Desperate green eyes focused with unnerving intensity on Dumbledore's. "This started with death and it'll end in death!" Harry found his weak composure slipping again. "And you know it! _Albus!_ God-damn you! You _always_ knew it!" Harry wiped his eyes, licking his wet lips and internally cringing at the salty taste of his own tears and snot.

He saw Dumbledore open his mouth but Harry held up his hand beating the man to it, "NO! _No!_ Don't you bloody dare! Don't you _dare_ deny it!" Harry drew in a large ragged breath, feeling wasted and raw as he dared the man he used to look up to, to challenge him, contradict him….

Albus's mouth tilted down and he looked mournful, the hand that had been pressing on Harry's back sliding off his shoulders and setting gently on the arm of the chair. "I thought that given time…" The aged man trailed off, his blue eyes focusing morosely on the brickwork as he straightened up. "I hoped that perhaps…perhaps something could have been figured out." Albus walked over to his desk, slumping down in the seat behind it. "I truly never wanted this to happen, Harry." The man whispered, looking helplessly at him in a gesture of genuine remorse.

Harry scoffed wiping his eyes and face roughly, _emotional moment over_, he glared at Albus and the meaning was obvious, this _never_ happened; they couldn't afford this weakness in this war. Harry stood from his comfy chair and dropped into the hard uncomfortable chair in front of the desk. He threw his glasses down, letting them skid across the parchment that littered the surface and grunted at them moodily. "Will you fix those for me? And change the thickness of the lenses, my eye sight has changed."

Albus picked the broken and crooked lenses up carefully, twirling them around with gentle fingers. "You know there is more to ophthalmology than just lenses thickness?" The man asked, withdrawing his wand and tapping the lenses. The right shattered upon contact and Harry frowned in worry and concern. It wasn't good when the leader of the light can't do a simple spell.

Dumbledore let out a light laugh before repairing it and tinkering with them some more. "I doubt they will be perfect – I'm not optician, but they should be a little better. I presume that your improved eyesight has something to do with Voldemort?"

Harry took back the proffered glasses, slipping them on carefully, and although it wasn't 100% perfect it would do for the immediate future….whatever was left of it for him anyway… He smiled briefly in thanks and nodded. "Let's say our secret is no longer safe." Harry looked into Albus's eyes and the need to bow his head like he normally had, to shield himself from the almighty figure he admired was no longer there. He looked at the man fearlessly – even knowing about the man's incredible skill of Legilimency and his lack of Occlumency skills. _Fuck him,_ he thought, _let him see the whole ugly truth and do what he will with it._

Albus frowned with worry, "Ah," He hummed, tapping his black fingers on the desk.

Harry eyed them without shame, cringing at the blackened nails, falling to pieces and the pungent smell of dark magic rotting in the headmaster's blood. "Want to explain that?" Harry nodded to the hand in question.

Albus smiled, looking down at the hand in what could only be described as fondness, "You'll never be distracted for long, will you Harry?" The man smiled at him, "That is a trait I have always admired in you. You do not give up, and even Severus would have to admit that that trait is admirable."

"From a Potter? He would never say such a thing about anything I possess." Harry replied, "And what is wrong with your magic? It is not like the _great_ Albus Dumbledore would break a pair of glasses…"

Albus smiled once again, before bending over and opening the bottom draw of his desk, pulling out a small box, which he slid across the table to Harry.

Green eyes looked at it in confusion, looking up at Albus and awaiting the encouraging nod before he opened it.

"A ring?" He pulled the thing up with only two fingers and then rolled it in his palm, smoothing over the large crack in the middle of it with his fingers. "Was this what I think it was?" He whispered, a strange foreign delight in him as he felt the dead weight in his hand, the coolness of the metal on his heated skin.

He distantly heard Albus confirm that it was but all Harry could really focus on was the utter despair coming from the horcrux in his mind, it wailed in crippling horror, but the agony was not something Harry shared, he grinned broadly at the headmaster. Though, of course the man could not understand why Harry was so happy, the silence from the object was blessed and _Christ!_ Harry wanted his head back to himself!

"So, was this the cause of…_that_." Harry asked, cradling the ring, the cool stone and metal warming in Harry's closed fist.

"Yes, yes it was." Albus gestured for Harry to return the ring to him. "The ring does still have its uses however, but if you wish for it when I am finished, you may have it."

They looked at each other and froze for a minute, both knowing that it wouldn't come to that but they were going to play for a while and pretend… so Harry smiled, "Please, I would like that." He said as he dropped the ring in its box and let Albus put it back in the draw.

"As I was saying, my dear boy, there was a curse on the ring which I, in a moment of foolishness, forgot about. My magic is malicious and out of control, I am afraid, I was planning on slowing the car down but the curse has such a hold on me that I…well you know, what I did."

Harry nodded, grimacing, "Will you send someone out to get her? I don't like to think of her there when she offered to do me a favour and it got her killed." Harry folded his hands in his lap, "It's the least we-I, I mean I - can do."

The horcrux gave a huff in his mind, still moody and upset about his treatment and scorn of it but that was the least of his worries as Albus's blue eyes had sharpened and were hooked on him in interest. "Harry, my boy, I understand that your captivity must have been extremely hard on you but is there something you wish to tell me?"

_No! _Was what Harry wanted to blurt but instead Harry raised an eyebrow, "We both have our secrets, Albus….let's keep them to ourselves for the time being."

The headmaster looked briefly amused, but opened his mouth to blatantly reinforce his question but was interrupted by an irritated tapping at the window. Both of them paused and looked towards the glass being rattled by the wind and rain. Albus waved his wand and the window swung open with horrendous force, Harry thought it lucky that the thing didn't break but he quickly focused on the rain pouring in and the sodden bird that emerged from it.

A vicious looking owl swooped into the room, sprinkling rain everywhere and glaring at everything in sight. After spotting Harry it flew over him, dropping a heavy package that sloshed a little in its envelope.

Immediately afterwards it left, back into the torrential downpour and Albus shut the window after it. Harry looked at the little package and then at Albus. For a few moments there was nothing and then Harry looked at his old mentor and said. "We need a plan and quickly."

Albus nodded, "A plan will not open that letter for you, Harry."

Harry shut his eyes and took a deep breath, steadying his stomach and slowly broke the seal holding it closed.

Harry opened it, pulling out the red, dripping letter and wished he had the energy to be sick. _How many limbs will it take?_ it read and Harry found he couldn't even react. Instead he just shut his eyes and flipped the letter on to Dumbledore's desk tiredly, allowing the muddy brown eyes stuck to the parchment, crying tears of blood to do all the speaking.

"Let's use this to our advantage. Anything we can use."

Blue met green, _for the greater good_, was left unspoken between them and as Harry set his hands upon the arms of his chair, his broken thumb sticking out at an awkward angle, he felt for the first time that he had met Albus Dumbledore as an equal.

Harry's eyes flickered around the office as Dumbledore picked up the wet letter carefully, and his green eyes caught his own reflection in one of Albus's many silver and reflective trinkets.

Harry was not as shocked as he wanted to be when he saw his reflection, he sat up straight, his posture screaming that he was willing to do what he had to in order to win this war, whether he liked what he had to do or not. He thought he looked young as he gazed at himself through his newly fixed glasses; they were sitting on a crooked, broken nose and Harry saw a young, green-eyed Albus Dumbledore looking back at him.

_**Fin….**_

**Ahh, I'm joking, I wouldn't leave it there but that last line felt very conclusive and cliché :P**

**If you're still sticking with this deplorable author, I apologise from the depths of my blackened stone heart that this was so bloody long in the making. I thought uni was going to be hard work…I was wrong…it seems that my uni has a mission to kill their students with work – first years included. I can't imagine second and third years….**

**This chapter is pretty heavy on the angst, I think, but I felt it was time that Harry had some introspective moments and a good angst is never bad when fighting a war… Anyway, this story needed a pivotal point if it was ever going to get anywhere and this is the point but there are plenty of twists…Voldemort twists to come. **_**I promise!**_

**I'm meant to be studying for my exams, however, whilst revising, this came to me and I wrote ¾ of it last night and just finished it now.**

**Want more Voldemort/Riddle? If you haven't checked out ****For Victory****, please do as it is my fav on-going work and there is plenty of Riddle and Harry interaction to gorge yourself on and the chapters are very long ;) It's so much fun to write as well :) **

**Thanks for sticking with me, PLEASE review! I will try harder to get the next one out a lot bloody quicker! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer – I don't not Harry Potter.**

**!VERY VERY IMPORTANT A/N!- Right, I have had a couple of reviews complaining about the amount of gore in this story. I have never held the pretence that this was a light going story. **

**Now, you all are entitled to your opinions and tastes regarding what you read, but when I have spelled out quite clear what will happen in this fic, I do not appreciate people criticizing me for the amount of gore I choose to put into this story. You are all entitled not to like it, but don't act like I somehow tricked you into reading the goddamn thing. **

**Also, what has spurred me into writing this is the **_**delightful**_** review from **Nebulous Narwhal**, who informed me that my torture scenes did no lend themselves to the progression of the plot and called it 'torture porn'…Now this has angered me, as everything I write lends itself to the plot, and I have posted my reply to her for you all to see, **

'Thank you for your review on my story, however with all due respect, every event I construct in my story lends itself to the plot. Just because you cannot see the purpose yet does not mean that there simply is not one. If you could already see a plot and how the story pans out, would you really want to read that kind of story? I know I wouldn't read a story like that, I would happen to find it very boring seeing as I could see exactly where it was going.

On the subject of Hermione's torture, yes she should have been screaming and thrashing were she a muggle subjected to torture like you or me, but she isn't and like the rest of this story the reasons for her reaction or lack of will be explained later in the story and not served up on a plate at the time of the event. On a side note, in certain circumstances the body can hold still through terrific pain - eyes being cut out, unlikely I'll grant you, but if the ancient Egyptians could remove cataracts with needles and no anaesthetic, I do believe that my little stretch using magic is not so unbelievable.

Torture porn? Yes, but then what else would you suggest Voldemort and Bellatrix like? The torture I write is not for the reader's or my own sick enjoyment, but to show the disgusting nature of these characters and show what kind of acts happen to POW in this universe.

As per your suggestion of less horror for horror's sake? If you think that what I have been writing for the last nine chapters is 'for horror's sake' then I'm afraid to say you have entirely missed this point of the story. None the less, thank you for your review.**'**

**I freely admit, I make my torture scenes horrific and I will go as far as I can possibly take them for impact, never for my own pleasure! Sometimes, I myself, can barely stomach them.  
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**I have included an explanation for Hermione's behaviour in this chapter, it was supposed to be in the next chapter but I figured that if there was anyone else who was as short sighted as the previous reviewer I had best clear things up now. **

**I know most of you are patient readers and are here to enjoy the ride, and for that and your continued support, I thank you and apologise for my rant.**

**Remember, readers who have come this far, you do not have to enjoy the torture but do not accuse me of not making it important to the plot.**

**Possession**

**(Dedicated to ****Amanda2308****, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, I wrote this just for you, my dear friend)**

At Harry's own gesture, Voldemort's macabre note was handed over the desk to Harry's outstretched hand. Harry pinched the edge of the letter between his two fingers uneasily, studiously avoiding Hermione's dead looking eyes but found himself unable to not look back at them ever few seconds. He flicked the sticky blood drops from his fingers and despite his rolling stomach he gently pulled one of the half eyes off the parchment.

He dropped it into the palm of his hand, and the cold tissue made Harry feel sick, he swallowed several times, before he croaked out "The cuts are very clean." He looked at Albus, blinking a couple of times. He looked back down at his friend eye, finding it distinctly disconcerting to look at his friend's eye with no Hermione attached to it, no emotion in it or having that wildly intelligent look she would have doing class. He closed his fingers over his palm, sighing, and looking up as Dumbledore spoke to him in a grave voice.

"Indeed they are, Harry." The man clasped his hands together on his desk, and Harry couldn't help but notice that the tips of his fingers held a red bloody tinge. The man continued, standing up wearily, "But you must remember magic is very instinctive and of course, wizards come to a lot more damage in their lives than muggles. So, need to reduce damage is greater. If Hermione did not have magic she could have ended up doing more damage to the nerve in her eye and end up never seeing again." Dumbeldore rummaged around on one of his shelves for a moment before selecting a large book, his hands gently stroking its spine unconsciously. "Also magic makes us heal faster, even without the help of medication, Harry."

Harry looked at him blankly, "What are you trying to say?" He demanded, putting the letter on the desk, and dropping the eye on top of it with disgust. He wiped his hands on his trousers and took to the proffered book. Squinting at the flowery writing he found out it was a medical book, adjusting his glasses carefully over his broken nose; he looked back up at Dumbledore inquisitively.

"I am saying Harry, that Hermione's instinctive magical reserves _possibly_ made her reduce the damage being done to her by-"

"Are you saying she sat still through all this?!" Harry demanded in shock, adjusting the book resting on his legs. He felt his eyebrows draw in close together and he frowned in confusion. _Who would do that?!_

"Well, it is entirely possible, magic would try and reduce the damage as much as it could. Struggling and flailing would only risk more injury inflicted. These cuts look like they were inflicted by a muggle weapon Harry. So there would be no inhibitors for the victim's magic in it unlike the cruciatus curse, which ensures that the maximum damage is done to the victim." Albus hummed under his breath as he inspected the eye again, "Wizards heal faster, and not just because of potions and spells, but because of magic itself and our innate desire to not be in pain or to be hurt. If left for a while, Miss Granger's eyes will grow back by themselves…assuming Tom did not put a spell on the blade." Albus put the eye down and folded the letter, "There is little known between the difference of muggle and magical healing, mainly because the ones who could fund the research are not interested in such things."

"Purebloods?" Harry guessed, tapping his fingers on the book cover introspectively. He eyed the letter in disgust as Albus folded his hands over it, as though to hide it from Harry's view.

"Yes, yes, they are among the few that could fund the research. The ministry could too but, as you well know, isn't interested in anything but itself." Albus smiled, a little sadly, "We are ignorant of so much in this world, Harry."

Harry nodded, before returning to the original subject quickly.

"So Hermione's own defence system let this happen?" It seemed….stupid, ridiculous but….Harry couldn't shake the idea out of his head now that Albus had placed it in there. After all, Harry healed quickly after Dudley's punches…to a degree it made a certain amount of sense.

"It's not unlikely, remember Harry, the human body – for both muggle and wizard, is incredible. If the circumstances are dire enough it will sacrifice it's own extremities to save itself." Albus picked up the letter and threw it on the fire with finality, "But then again, this happened in Voldemort's home, where his magic is saturated in the very foundations of the surrounding earth, so the very air itself tries to please him there. It could have influenced, even _made_ poor Miss Granger do as she was told."

Albus sighed, rubbing his brow in stress, "We shall probably never know the exact reason, Harry." He turned towards him, all business all of a sudden, no longer teacher to pupil but to an equal, "We need to figure out where Voldemort is staying, have you any idea where in the country you were?"

Harry was about to shake his head, when suddenly he remembered something, and it was so coincidental that he found himself almost gaping at the shock. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a crinkled prescription half, on the top was printed the chemist's address. He hadn't remembered doing it, but upon getting his medication he had stuffed the papers in his pocket quickly in his haste to leave the little B&B. In one hand he had carried the small bag of antibiotics and he had kept the other hand free.

Wordlessly, he handed over the creased paper and Albus took it, smiling a little, "The kindness of strangers is a wonderful thing, Harry." He flattened it on his desk. "Someone was watching out for you when you stuffed this in your pocket, Harry. You could have thrown this away and then we would be starting almost from scratch." He murmured, smiling as he noted down the village and area with his quill.

"Hm," Harry murmured distractedly, "It is a couple miles down the road from that village, I remember running down it for hours."

Albus looked up, and then looked down at how well Harry was dressed, "Well, someone has at least done you a good turn." He smiled, "You should get yourself to Madam Pomfrey, however, you're nose needs healing and other injuries you might have sustained need to be checked too."

Harry nodded and pushed himself to his feet, placing the book where he had just been sitting and hobbling towards the door. All his aches and pains seemed to suddenly be upon him, as though now he could relax and was safe, everything worsened by tenfold.

"We shall start to plan tomorrow, when you have had a decent night's rest." Albus called after him, as he settled in his chair behind the desk. "I shall contact the Order ASAP; we will get Miss Granger and Mr Weasley back at the next opportunity."

Harry smiled over his shoulder and nodded, before slowly edging down the stairs, wincing at every step. He made his way slowly through the castle, which was almost empty seeing as the holidays had recently started.

Harry fortunately met no one, and was about to turn into the corridor which would lead him straight to the medical wing when he felt a tingling in the back of his mind.

It was a niggle that piqued his curiosity, seeing as the Horcrux seemed to have become completely silent since Harry's 'betrayal'. He looked down at the double doors that would lead to comfort and pain relief…even though there was disgusting potions too and then at the stairs leading to the upper floors.

He finally decided he would not be able to rest whilst this niggling continued and he knew what Madam Pomfrey was like…he wouldn't be leaving her care until at least the next afternoon. With great effort he pulled himself up the stairs, heaving with painful breaths at his exhaustion, he took his directions from the strength of the niggling feeling.

When he reached the seventh floor, Harry could feel the hot sweat on his forehead, and imaged he was incredibly shiny looking. He looked blankly at the blank stretch of wall in front of him for a mere second before he realised that he was at the room of requirement. He painstakingly paced three times in front of the wall thinking, _I need to find something_, until the giant wooden doors bloomed from the aged stones, slowly and with the sounds of many grating stones.

The doors swung open at Harry's gentle touch, as though they were expecting him and Harry staggered into a cluttered minefield of useless things. He frowned, _why here?_

He followed the odd sensation that buzzed between his ears but although it was almost deafening now he couldn't find its cause. Just as he was about to give up, seeing the ringing in his ears was like the sound of crackling electricity and was giving him a headache, he heard the Horcrux gasp, squirm almost in his mind. He looked around quickly, eyes darting back and forth between the junk around him.

He suddenly had the odd urge to look up, just in time to see a large grotesque fall down towards him, its large snarling face rushing towards him. Harry jumped back, ignoring his aching limbs protests as the heavy stone smashed into the floor heavily. The sneering face of the creature shattered and bounced across the ground, its bulbous eye rolling to face Harry and it's hunched wings crumbling and falling flat to the ground.

Harry watched as the stone groaned as it fell to pieces but the stone eye that had rolled not two feet in front of him was suddenly obscured by a large tiara, dull and chipped.

_Tainted_. Harry thought suddenly, but none the less he fell to his knees and his fingers ran over it, not quite touching it but he could feel the dark magic pulling at him.

The Horcrux squirmed excitedly; after all it had found another Brother….typical that Voldemort would hide one in the only place he had considered home.

Harry pulled his hand away hesitantly, but then felt oddly compelled to touch it again. He watched as though someone else's hand caressed the tiara possessively.

The power radiating off it made Harry's eyes roll and he slumped forward, reaching with his other hand to grab the tiara…no, no it wasn't a tiara….it was Ravenclaw's Diadem….and it was so glorious and beautiful. Harry ran his hands over it, like a mad man….a man possessed and he cradled the precious thing like he would he own newborn child.

His heart was racing in his chest and he could hear the diadem whispering to him, snake like and hissing it's joy to be found again, by one of it's own none-the-less.

….and Harry couldn't explain….but before he knew it; he was placing the Diadem on his own head.

**A/N – I hope you all enjoyed it, I know it was very filler like but next chapter we are going to be moving forward….maybe, I dunno what Harry is doing anymore…but we will find out next chapter ;)**

**Once again, Happy Birthday to ****Amanda2308****, hope you liked your BDay pressie :D**

**Also, a new chapter of For Victory is up, so if you want darkness and gore galore, then head over and check it out ;)**

**So, everyone review please? Thank you everyone!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Possession**

Harry felt the diadem touch the crown of his head with the cruel cold metal and diamonds pressing into skin through his hair.

Nothing.

Harry sat there with the pretty diadem on his and nothing happened, the dull thing just slanted to the left a little, weighing heavily on Harry's head and neck.

Harry blinked, suddenly coming back to himself; he looked at the shattered grotesque in mild confusion. With a shaky hand he reached towards the diadem perched on his head. His fingers gently brushed the protruding stones as he went to grip it. Then just as his hand went to pluck the thing off him, the whole diadem shattered into thousands of pieces, metal and precious stones scattering all over the floor and Harry, joining the shattered creature from earlier.

Harry started; hand still paused by his head in shock as he heard the jewels roll across the stone floor, disappearing under cabinets and piles of discarded items.

His hand dropped to his lap softly and Harry pushed himself to his feet tiredly, staggering over rocks and broken stone as he made his way out of the room of requirement in perpetual confusion.

The horcrux made no sound in his mind, offering no complaint or comment at all. That made Harry worry a lot, seeing as there was always a feeling of _something_ these days. He could always feel it shift, like a separate consciousness.

He groaned as he walked, cupping his face in his hands, perhaps he was just going mad with the stress of the war.

For a moment he thought with fondness of his cupboard and wondered what would have happened should he have stayed with the Dursley's and gone to the crappy state school and lived a muggle life. He would probably be no less miserable than he was now.

Lot less likely to be murdered definitely.

What if he had been a muggle?

Life would have been simpler, for sure.

Harry dragged himself back the way he had came before, the niggling feeling thoroughly gone. Maybe it had been nothing ? He certainly hoped so but he knew it was _something_, he was just that unlucky.

He reached the hospital doors and paused, leaning on the door frame to catch his breath before knocking loudly on the heavy wooden doors.

There were a few moments of silence before he could hear shuffling on the other side of the door. There was a lot creaking and groaning from old iron as the giant handle was turned and a little face peeped out in open curiosity.

The boy was obviously a first year, with huge eyes in a small, pale face. The boy's mouth opened in awe at seeing Harry there, showing the adult teeth that the face hadn't grown into yet, and they were surprisingly reminiscent of Hermione's own teeth at that age.

"Y-you're Harry Potter!" The boy gasped in awe, letting the door go and swing open a little more to reveal the boy in pyjamas supporting the football team 'Chelsea', at least Harry thought so; his knowledge of muggle football teams was rather deficient.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, feeling surprisingly uncharitable to the boy even though the kid was only probably eleven years old. He marched forward, feeling stronger now the end was in sight, Madam Pomfrey's office light low and dull in the corner. Harry supposed she had a silencing charm around it which is why she didn't hear his knocking. Harry frowned, that was rather odd… normally she wouldn't do that seeing as she had young patients that might need her.

The boy walked backwards with him, keeping his brown eyes on Harry's face in awe, as though trying to remember every detail that he could see.

"I can't believe I'm meeting you! It's amazing! I'm your greatest fan, Harry!" The boy jogged a little as Harry moved faster, feeling the urge to sneer at him. "You're so cool, Harry!" The boy raved, waving his hands in excitement.

The boy had a very 'Creevey' look about him and Harry prayed that they hadn't bred anymore of the critters. Harry ground his teeth together in aggravation at the kid, and the smacking of the child's feet on the floor made Harry's headache worse.

The indecent babble continued, with the kid dancing around Harry almost in a circle, preventing him from moving forward.

"Look," Harry began, feeling an unusual amount of anger rising in him. "Aren't you supposed to be sick? Go back to bed!"

"But you came here to see me!" The kid exclaimed, Harry gave him a funny look as he certainly hadn't come to see him, "My friends said I'd never see Harry Potter! Especially 'cos I'm a muggle born and- and…but you're here!" He grinned at him, "I can't go to bed now!"

Harry rolled his eyes before leaning forward and grabbing a fistful of the kid's shirt and pulling him closer. "I'm not here to _fucking_ see you, I am fucking injured!" Harry hissed venomously. He sneered down at the shirt, "Especially not to see a little mudblood like you! You're friends are right!" He spat, watching in a vile enjoyment at the kid lost the excited flush he had in his cheeks, and his mouth opened in wretched shock. "Now, go back to your fucking bed as you are _sick_! Go back before I really make you ill by smashing you head against the wall until it nothing more than mush. Do you understand?" Harry continued, slowly letting go of the clothing, though the cloth settled against the boy's chest in a crumpled and wrinkled mass.

The boy's brown eyes were filled with tears and his lips trembled in the way only a child's can when their hero isn't what they wanted or expected. He nodded, putting his head down until it was on his chest. He walked back to his bed with quite sniffles and hid himself under the covers, though Harry could still hear him crying as he marched to Madam Pomfrey's office. He smiled cruelly at the boy's attempt at muffling his tears.

He knocked his fist on the door and leant against the wood with a casual arrogance as Madam Pomfrey looked up in shock at the sudden sound.

She gasped loudly when she saw his appearance, her hand covering her mouth, "Oh, Mr Potter, we were _so_ worried!"

He smiled at her charmingly, disarmingly, "Well, I'm back now." He said demurely, "Unfortunately, not without a few scrapes."

She stood instantly, the chair scraping against the floor and knocking down a few box files, she looked at them in irritation before waving her hands in dismissal and bustling over to him.

"Come, come, Mr Potter. We will get you all sorted out. I've always managed to heal all your scrapes before! I've regrown your bones before. I'm sure we'll get you all well in no time!" She gently pushed him out of the office and directed him to a bed. "I'll be back in a moment, Mr Potter. Make yourself comfortable." With that she hurried off to her massive potions supply cupboard.

Harry sighed, feeling very exhausted all of a sudden, the pains of his body all coming back to him in an instant. He took of his glasses, throwing them down on the bed with a tired groan. He rubbed his face vigorously to awaken him a little when he heard the crying from a few beds down. He frowned, vague recollection coming to him from his cruel words.

His face scrunched up in consideration, trying to remember what had happened, when he heard a horrible snide voice in his mind, as the horcrux moved, as though getting comfortable, "_Well, this is a new interesting feature. I like this new development you know, Harry, do you to?_"

**A/N – I'm sorry that this isn't very good quality but I wrote it on the train home and I am quite tired.**

**Review please?  
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